


Compatibility

by shelny18



Series: Compatibility [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, British Politics, Café, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Music, Parents & Children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:48:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 102,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelny18/pseuds/shelny18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things haven't been going well in the relationship and it all comes to a head when Enjolras leaves one night. Grantaire manages to move on with his life (sort of), but after over five years of nothing, Enjolras suddenly walks back into the lives of his old friends, with someone else in tow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue Part 1: Never Ending Fights

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so after the first two chapters the story will jump forwards five and a half years. I planned for the first two chapters to just be one, but it came out at 4000 words so I decided I'd turn it into a prologue of two parts.
> 
> Sorry if they are at all OOC.

The argument had only just started when Courfeyrac arrived home from work, but already Jehan was huddled at the foot of the stairs, shooting worried glances over his shoulder while Combeferre leant against the wall outside their first floor living room, eyes closed. The frown marring his otherwise calm face was the only sign that he was listening to what their two friends were yelling at each other.

"What is it this time?" Courfeyrac asked as he dropped his coat and sat next to Jehan, wrapping an arm round his friend's shoulders. The poet hated raised voices of any kind, but especially Enjolras and Grantaire, as they were famous for the words of venom they could spit at each other in the heat of the moment.

"The usual," Combeferre said wearily, coming down and hanging Courfeyrac's coat by the door, a regular nightly routine by now. "The drinking, the smoking, the cynicism, the nihilism, work or lack of it, politics, beliefs, the self-destruction, money, who's a bigger prick, why do they bother, then back to the drinking again."

"How long?"

"Only ten minutes, but they were snapping at each other for about an hour beforehand, ever since Grantaire walked in with a beer."

"It's not like he was drunk," Jehan piped up. "It was his first drink in two days, Enjolras didn't need to make comments on how much he drank."

"Well he does drink too much," Combeferre pointed out, though inside he did agree with Jehan. As silence fell, the voices upstairs raised again and the trio listened as the words became audible.

"-if I became a useless drunken cynical bastard that'd be alright, would it? Just so long as I didn't believe in something which could change things for the better?"

"Your fucking revolution won't change anything! The world is not ready, people do not care! All it will do is get yourself and our friends either locked up or maybe even killed and it would all be your fucking fault!" Jehan dropped his head into his hands and Courfeyrac winced at the words. Moments later he winced again as he heard the loud thud and smash. _So that's what it takes to make Enjolras lose it,_ he thought silenty, jumping up as he did so. Dragging Jehan with him, he grabbed the three coats off the hooks and threw them at their owners.

"Let's go out," he announced, linking arms with them both.

"Where?" Combeferre asked as he pulled away to shrug his coat on.

"Anywhere but here. Enjolras will now be feeling guilty, as he does, and Grantaire will either be reassuring him he's okay, goading him, or kissing him. Whichever it is, I give them ten minutes before they're screwing up there, and that's one thing I could do without hearing tonight."

"Musain?" Jehan suggested as Courfeyrac steered them out of the building.

"Done."

* * *

After a few drinks with their friends, Jehan started to calm down and relax. Leaving him babbling away with Joly and Feuilly, Courfeyrac made his way over to where Combeferre was sat, staring into space with his bottle held loosely in one hand.

"Cheer up, it may never happen," he said quietly, smiling at him as he blinked his way back into existance.

"I fear it will," he replied softly, taking another gulp of his beer. "It's worse this time." Courfeyrac didn't have to ask what he was talking about, just sighed and dropped into the seat opposite.

"They've fought before, and they'll fight again. They fight on a weekly basis, yet they're still in love with each other."

"Courf, Enjolras actually _hit_ him-" Combeferre started, but Courfeyrac interrupted quickly.

"Yes, but he never has before. Well, maybe once, but that's years back, well before they were dating, and Grantaire did deserve it. Part of me feels he deserved this one too, though Enjolras should have kept his temper."

"I warned him this relationship was a bad idea," Combeferre sighed. "I warned him the day he first admitted to me that he thought he had feelings for him. I told him they weren't compatible, and he didn't listen."

"He wanted to be happy."

"Is arguing every bloody night for a fortnight happy?" Courfeyrac froze.

"...I thought they weren't arguing as much."

"They're not arguing as much while we're around to hear it. You forget though, I get home before you. There's always raised voices of some kind."

Courfeyrac let this sink in before replying, voice the quietest it had been in a while.

"If they break up, what do you think will happen to the group?" It was a valid point. Most of the group had either joined through knowing Grantaire and Courfeyrac, or Enjolras and Combeferre. If the pair turned against each other more than in the past, it could end badly for Les Amis de l'ABC.

"I don't think we'd have to find out," Combeferre muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I doubt they'd both be sticking around. I mean, _Grantaire_ told him tonight to, ah, just go if he had such a problem with him."

Courfeyrac couldn't help but stare. "Wait a sec, are you saying Grantaire told Enjolras to fuck off? Wow. Yeah, this is bad." He paused for a moment. "If they stay together, the make-up sex must be fecking amazing." Combeferre blinked owlishly again, before letting a small smile crack through.

"Yeah," he agreed, standing to go buy them more drinks. "It'd have to be."

* * *

Sitting up and leaning back against the sofa, Enjolras drew his knees up to his chest and rested his chin there, looking down on his lover. Grantaire looked his most peaceful asleep, when he wasn't drinking or arguing or self-destructing or just looking so damn pessimistic that it was made Enjolras want to kiss the cynic until he accepted compliments without a word or at least _smiled_. Asleep though, most of his flaws ended. A faint smile was on his lips, his hair was sticking up in every direction (though Enjolras knew most of that was due to him running his hands through it desperately and holding him closer), and one arm was flopped out towards Enjolras, as if to draw him back into his embrace. And Enjolras had to admit, he was tempted.

His mind automatically went back to the argument. It wasn't exactly new that they were fighting so much, they'd been fighting ever since they met, but he couldn't stop his mind from replaying all the ways this night had been different. Grantaire may occasionally tell everyone to fuck off, especially when drunk, but always with an at least part-joking tone. It was the first time Enjolras had ever heard since sincerity and hate in the words, and it felt like they had broken something inside him. And he'd hit him. He'd actually _hit him_! Enjolras shuddered slightly at the memory. He loved Grantaire, he knew this for a fact, but when he'd mentioned how Enjolras would bear the guilt for ruining their friends lives and maybe even killing them, he'd seen red. Slowly, he reached out and brushed his fingers over the developing bruise. The guilt he felt at this was worse than any he'd ever felt before, and he knew it would continue to stab at him long after the black eye faded.

But Enjolras couldn't bring himself to voice even in his thoughts the thing that hurt the most, though his mind was constantly replaying it over and over. No matter what the circumstances or how bad the argument, one thing always remained constant. After the sex, Grantaire kissed him lightly and told Enjolras he loved him. Enjolras didn't always reply, but only because he felt sure Grantaire should know what his feelings for the art student were by now. But that night, Grantaire had just looked at him with tired eyes and flopped backwards, eyes closing almost instantly as he rolled over and drifted off to a place Enjolras couldn't follow. Enjolras had stared at him frantically, wondered what was going to happen to them.

Hence why he was sat there, three a.m. in the morning, considering his options. He could stay, obviously. If he did, he had two routes he could follow. Breaking up with Grantaire yet still living in the same house, attending the same university and having the same friends would just be too painful. He knew instantly he couldn't cope with seeing the man he loved every day but not being an important part of his life anymore, yet Enjolras didn't know if the relationship could continue the way it was. That left him one other choice.

Leaving.

Looking down at Grantaire again made up Enjolras's mind for him. Slowly, he reached over and smoothed the curls that were cascading onto the drunk's face, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before climbing to his feet and padding over to where his clothes had been discarded. He dressed silently, constantly flicking glances back to Grantaire, part of him hoping the other man would wake up and stop him before he could actually follow through with his plan. He didn't though, and Enjolras sighed as he hesitated at the door before heading back in and pulling a blanket off the sofa, positioning it carefully over his friend. Leaving the lounge he headed for his bedroom, not wasting any time as he grabbed the few things he needed and shoved them into the nearest rucksack. He didn't want to take everything, he knew that the memories contained in most of his belongings would call him back to that house before even a month had passed.

The last thing he did was write two notes. One he pushed under Combeferre's door. Combeferre had been his friend since they were three, and Enjolras knew he couldn't just walk out of that without some sort of explanation or apology. The other stayed in his hand as he hovered on the landing, staring at the lounge door nervously. Now that he'd decided to do this, he had to, and he knew seeing Grantaire again may make him change his mind. Instead he made his way over to the back stairs and sneaked down to the kitchen, stepping over the squeaky step as he did so. He left the paper labelled 'Grantaire' on the table, knowing it would be seen as soon as the man staggered in next morning to get some water for his hangover.

Taking one last look around the place, Enjolras sighed one last time and left, not daring to look back until he was in his car and driving.


	2. Prologue Part 2: An End and A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone finds out Enjolras left, and Enjolras finds the complete opposite of what he had before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again if anyone is OOC, and here I think it is mainly Combeferre. However, as he's drunk in part of it then pissed in another part, I'm using that as my excuse.

It had been a while since Courfeyrac had been able to get Combeferre drunk and he never stopped being proud of the fact he managed it. It took both of them to get Jehan home however, because even though neither was in the greatest of states, they were definitely better off than he was. They half-dragged, half-carried him up the path, all the while lecturing him on how this was why no-one ever let Bahorel fix drinks for them.

"Why is it light?" the poet slurred, glaring blearily up at the sky.

"Because it's morning," Courfeyrac groaned. "I think I have work today." Combeferre and Jehan burst out laughing, each holding the other up. "It's not funny!" Courfeyrac complained, scowling at them. "You're both drunk as well."

"Point," Combeferre said finally, sounding more like his normal composed self. One main reason why he rarely drank enough to be affected was because of how much he changed - even his friends barely believed it was the same man. "Now are you planning on unlocking that door or admiring it?"

"S'unlocked already." Pushing it open, the trio almost fell inside, coming to a sudden halt when they saw the scene that awaited them.

Grantaire was sat in the corner facing the front door, wearing only his boxers and a shirt Combeferre recognised as belonging to Enjolras. He'd pressed himself as fair into the corner as he could, arms pulling his knees up to his chest as he stared at them blankly. They all saw him visibly deflat when he realised it was them, going back to staring behind them and rocking slightly.

The three sobered up instantly. Jehan rushed to Grantaire's side, placing his hands on his shoulders and trying to get his attention. Courfeyrac shared a worried look with Combeferre and went to check the kitchen, leaving Combeferre racing up the stairs and bursting into the living room. When he saw it was empty, he ran up the hallway to Enjolras's room, becoming  more frantic than ever when he saw it too was empty. Hearing Courfeyrac call his name frantically, he slowly headed down the back staircase, coming out in the kitchen and staring numbly across at his friend. Courfeyrac was sat at the table, head in his hands as he reread the letter in front of him.

"He's gone, hasn't he?" Combeferre asked quietly, dropping into the chair opposite. Courfeyrac didn't reply, just pushed the letter over. Combeferre silently read it.

**Grantaire,**

**This, us, it isn't working. Surely you can see this just as much as I can, or you wouldn't have told me to go today. All we ever do is fight, and I can't take it any more.**

**We aren't compatible. You deserve better than me, you deserve someone who will love you. The easiest thing to happen here is for one of us to leave, so that's what I'm doing. It'll hurt less this way.**

**Please, look after yourself.**

**I'm sorry.**

"Fuck," Courfeyrac whispered, when Combeferre had finished and looked over at him. Courfeyrac was still staring at the piece of paper, tears glistening in his eyes. "This cannot be fucking happening." Combeferre kept his emotions reigned in, simply patting Courfeyrac's hand as he stood and walked past him back out of the room.

Crouching next to Jehan and Grantaire, he murmured, "He's gone," into Jehan's ear. Jehan stiffened and stared up at him, eyes wide with shock. Combeferre reached forwards and drew Grantaire into a hug, whispering, "I'm so, so sorry," as he did so. Grantaire let out a sudden sob, clutching at Combeferre as he finally let the tears loose, shaking slightly as he did so. Combeferre didn't notice Jehan move to join Courfeyrac in the kitchen, just stayed knelt on the floor holding a man who some days he barely considered to be a friend.

"I still love him," Grantaire muttered when he could speak again.

"I know," Combeferre said simply. "Come on, you need to sleep." As he tugged at Grantaire's hand, the drunk let him pull him to his feet, meekly following the most studious of his friends down the hall to his room. Once he'd found a sleeping pill, he got Grantaire into bed and passed it over, sitting next to the man until he was asleep. Suddenly exhaused himself, he made his way back to the kitchen and stood in the doorway, looking over at Courfeyrac and Jehan.

"What do we do now?" Jehan asked softly once he'd noticed him.

"Tell the others," Combeferre shrugged. "Not a lot else we can do. I've given Grantaire something to help him sleep - it's probably the best thing for him right now."

"Do you think he'll come back?" Courfeyrac's voice was bleak, and Combeferre remembered that he wasn't the only one to have considered the blond student as like a brother.

"No," he said bluntly. "I don't."

* * *

That evening, Combeferre decided he needed a break. Their entire group of friends had come round as soon as they'd heard, and he just needed a few moments of silence. Excusing himself, he checked on Grantaire before making his way up to his own room.

He'd barely stepped inside the door when he heard the noise. Looking down, the paper sticking out from under his foot was obvious, and his heart beat louder as he bent to pick it up, knowing he hadn't left it there himself. The writing on the front confirmed what he had expected - he'd know Enjolras's writing anywhere. Opening it, he began to read.

**Combeferre,**

**No doubt Grantaire showed you his letter. Whether he has or not, you need to know the truth.**

**I'm leaving. There's a number of reasons why, but I shan't go into details. The main ones are that I simply cannot go on living my life like this, and that this just isn't working. I love Grantaire like there's no tomorrow, but I'm not sure we'll last. If that's the case, then it'll be easier on us both to just end things now. Tonight simply confirmed my suspicians that we're getting closer to ending. Me loving him and him loving me isn't enough, we have to actually like the other as well. If we ended this and both stayed here, it would probably end up ripping this group apart, and I won't do that. So while you may all think I'm making the wrong decision, I cannot change my mind on this.**

**I have a couple of requests. Firstly, please don't let Grantaire know about this letter. I don't care if you think I've been too harsh in his letter, but it may help him to move on quicker if he thinks I don't love him. Secondly, look after him. I don't trust him not to kill himself even faster now I'm not there to stop him from drinking constantly. I worry about him sometimes, but I know he'll be okay with you. Thirdly, there's some books on my shelf which may interest Jehan. If he ever gets round to finally kissing Courf, pass them on to him please, and give them my congratulations.**

**Finally, and yes I know this is more than a couple so stop rolling your eyes at me, look after yourself. Have an amazing life. Do everything you ever wanted to do and more. That manuscript is almost perfect, so send it off to someone.**

**I'm sorry about this. I know the words are almost useless, but I do mean it, from the bottom of my heart. I'm applying for a transfer for the last year, so I'll ask Marius to call round and pick up my papers at some point.**

**Enjolras**

Combeferre closed his eyes for a moment once he'd finished reading. Pulling out his phone, he called the number he knew by heart, swearing under his breath when he heard the voicemail message. Taking in a deep breath, he started the second he heard the beep, barely pausing for breath.

"You complete and utter bastard. Yes this is me not Courf or Jehan but you deserve it. I may not always like Grantaire but you've broken him completely with this, and then you have the nerve to tell me to stop him from drinking? After this he fucking deserves to. You broke his fucking heart Enjolras. Get the hell back here and sort your own mess out, because god knows I won't." Pressing the end button, he realised he was shaking. It wasn't often Combeferre swore or even raised his voice in anger, and it was definitely the first time he'd sworn at a friend, but Enjolras had earned it.

"Um, are you okay?" Turning, he saw Jehan standing in the doorway, watching him worriedly. From his expression he guessed that he'd heard his conversation with Enjolras's voicemail.

"I've been better," he replied, voice still showing strains of anger. Beckoning the poet inside, he handed the letter over, knowing Jehan could keep a secret. "Keep this quiet," he warned. "Definitely don't tell Courfeyrac, he couldn't keep a secret from Grantaire if his life depended on it."

"The bastard," Jehan squeaked afterwards, voice going high as it always did when he was angry or emotional. "How could he make Grantaire think he doesn't love him when he knows how much Grantaire worships him?"

"Because the stupid idiot thinks it'll help. This is why Grantaire is his first relationship, he doesn't get how normal people think or behave." Combeferre sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Did you need me for something?"

"Grantaire's finally awake." Without another word Combeferre pushed past Jehan and practically flew down the stairs, but was stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what was going on. Grantaire was standing by the kitchen sink, emptying a bottle of wine into it. From the empties lined up next to him and the shell-shocked expressions on everyone's face, Combeferre decided he must have poured out all of those too.

"Grantaire? Are you okay?" he asked gently as the man slammed down the last empty bottle. Judging by the number, Combeferre decided that clearly there was no alcohol left in the house. Grantaire span to face them, expression blank and voice hard as he spoke.

"I quit."

He stormed past them all back into his room, slamming the door so hard it felt like the entire house shook.

"What just happened?" Joly asked, stunned.

"I think Grantaire just quit drinking," Combeferre said quietly, making his way over to the sink and starting to clear away the bottles. "And I think we have Enjolras to thank."

"He thinks Enjolras doesn't love him and left because of the drinking," Courfeyrac realised. "Because that was always their main argument. So even though it's too late, he's quit."

"Good," Combeferre said honestly. "Now we just need to help him through it."

* * *

Sat in his parked car, Enjolras stared at the rain streaming down his windows as he listened to the message. _"You broke his fucking heart Enjolras. Get the hell back here and sort your own mess out, because god knows I won't."_ His finger hesitated over the call back button for a second before he changed his mind and hit delete. A clean break would be better for them all, he decided, himself included.

Getting out, he glanced up at the building next to him before going in. It was the first time he'd ever been inside a club, but tonight he needed something new to distract him. As he made his way over to the bar, he looked around curiously, though he wished the music were quieter.

"Hey handsome," a voice murmured in his ear as he finished his first drink and he jumped, turning to see a red-head smirking at him, top pulled down enough that he didn't have to leave too much to his imagination.

"Hi," he replied, giving her a polite smile.

"Want to dance?" she offered, holding out her hand. Enjolras considered it for a moment. He didn't dance. This fact was official. In fact, it was written down somewhere to try and stop Grantaire from spinning him round whenever a song he liked came on the radio. All of this just seemed the perfect reason to do it now.

"Sure." Accepting the hand, he let her drag him onto the dancefloor, not even stopping her when she pressed herself close to him. As the song changed to something slower, he was about to step away when she had wrapped her arms round his neck, swaying in time to the music. Enjolras wavered then placed his hands softly on her waist, drawing her in nearer again.

Before the end of the song, he was kissing her.

As she dragged him out of the club a few hours later, he grabbed her and pulled her hard against him, kissing her deeply as her hands clutched at his hair, stopping him from pulling away.

"What's your name?" he gasped when they surfaced for air.

"Charlie," she breathed against his lips, kissing him straight afterwards. "You?"

"Enjolras." He backed her up against the wall, lips moving against hers again. "Nothing serious," were the last words he said as she hailed a taxi minutes later, his hand firmly gripped in hers.

"Fine by me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And sad stuff mainly over. It should get happier in the following chapters now, and will also magically skip five years.


	3. Five and a half years later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over five years have passed and many things have changed

Courfeyrac glanced round the cafe quickly as he headed back across to the counter, checking for dirty tables and beaming at everyone he passed.

"Only one free table left," he informed Eponine and Cosette. "If you take it in turns to have lunch before the next sitting decides to arrive, Gavroche can leave once you've both finished. Feel free to fight it out between yourselves who goes first." Turning, he leant on the side counter as he looked out at his cafe again. _Best choice I ever made_ , he told himself silently, as he did every time he worked a shift.

Catching sight of the newcomer by the door, he shoved a checkbook into the pocket of his apron and approached, a broad smile on his face.

"Good afternoon sir," he greeted the man cheerfully. "Welcome to the ABC cafe. Although, if you're after the museum instead, then it's just down those stairs, and the art gallery is just through the door behind you."

"No, it was the cafe," the man replied with a small smile back. "We've just arrived and someone suggested here as a good place to eat."

"How many do you need a table for?"

"Just two."

"In which case, right this way sir." Courfeyrac frowned slightly as he watched the man turn to look behind him. He was sure he recognised him. "Wait a minute... Enjy?"

"How many times do I have to ask you not to call me that?" The man stopped suddenly, staring at Courfeyrac in shock. "I was right. It is you." His reaction to the old nickname had clearly been on autopilot as he only now realised where he knew this waiter from.

"Enjolras!" Stepping forwards, Courfeyrac swept him into a tight hug.

"Dammit Courf, I can't breathe!" Enjolras gasped, though he hugged him back just as hard.

"It's so great to see you!" Courfeyrac grinned, starting babbling. "How are you? What are you doing now? You said we, who are you with? You hooked up with someone? Oh just wait till I tell the others, they won't believe me! Look at your hair! I can't believe you cut all the curls out, Jehan will hate you for that I'm sure. And oh god I'd best save you that table before someone else nabs it, you don't want to be sat on the floor."

Laughing quietly, Enjolras tried to ignore the stares they were getting from nearby tables.

"Just let me get Al and we'll be right with you," he promised, turning again just as a young girl came running over to him.

"Look look!" she said excitedly, holding up a book and some toys. "Toys!"

"Sorry about this," Courfeyrac said quickly as he searched the cafe for the child's parents, missing the soft smile Enjolras gave her. "Some people let their kids run riot without a care in the world for other customers." He faced Enjolras again just in time to see his friend picking the girl up and admiring the toys she was clutching.

"We won't be needing anything from the bag then, will we?" he teased her quietly, tapping her on the nose lightly as she stared at him in shock. Seeing the look on his old friend's face, Enjolras couldn't help but smile even more. "I suppose I should introduce you. This is Alana. Only name her mother and I could agree on, even after eight months. Ali, this is Courf."

"Bloody hell," Courfeyrac gasped, forgetting where he was for a moment. "You're a dad!"

"Uh, yeah," Enjolras said quietly, focusing on his daughter to avoid having to look Courfeyrac in the eye.

"Wow. Just wow. When did that happen? Can't have been long after you left, looking at her. She looks a lot like you, especially with the hair. So who's the mother? When did you get married? When can I meet her? What's she like?"

"Courf, I'm not married," Enjolras interrupted quickly before he could fire off any more questions.

"Oh." Courfeyrac blinked, shocked. "I always thought you'd be the type to get married before having kids. Still, who's the lucky woman?"

"Her name is Charlie. The best thing she ever did was give me Alana. We were never serious and didn't really want to be, both having only just come out of relationships when we met. Then she showed up at my flat and announced that she was pregnant and didn't want it, so either I could have it or she was having an abortion." His face twisted as he said the last sentence. "I couldn't do it. I dropped my application for my Masters degree and told her she could stay at my place until Alana was born."

"You dropped your application? But you'd been choosing your universities for that since high school!"

"Daddy, I'm hungry," the little girl said suddenly, tugging at Enjolras's shirt.

"Oh god, sorry," Courfeyrac apologised quickly. "Come on, let's get you sat down. If you choose what you want, I'll go get your order then join you, if that's okay? I'm about due a break anyways."

"Perfect," Enjolras smiled. "It seems we've a lot to catch up on."

"Well girls, I need Gavroche to stay for a little longer," Courfeyrac said in a sing-song voice as he disappeared behind the counter, hitting buttons on the various coffee machines back there. "I'm taking a break myself and I may be some time. I'll join you again if it's busy." Passing the order over to Bahorel, he grabbed the tray of drinks and headed out again. "Here we go," he grinned, passing out the drinks. Alana barely looked up from the toys as Enjolras opened the juice carton and Courfeyrac couldn't help but smile. "Spitting image," he said softly.

"Not these days," Enjolras sighed, running a hand through his now-short hair.

"Close enough," Courfeyrac said impatiently, waving his hand. "So, you dropped your application. Gonna continue the story?"

"I found myself a job instead. Wasn't much, only bar work, but it brought in a wage. A few months later I found a library job as well. Charlie left almost right after Alana was born, but I didn't care. My neighbour was willing to babysit whenever I had to work and life was almost perfect. I applied for a job in politics when she was about two. She was starting to go to the local nursery and had settled in, but I wanted a day job so I could spend more time at home." Enjolras shrugged. "So I ended up working at Westminster. I got randomly assigned to a MP and ended up swapping when he resigned a couple of months ago. Got sent here to work with your local guy, Jim Hacker."

The conversation ended when the food arrived, Cosette quickly setting the plates down so she could drag Enjolras up to hug him, cooing over Alana moments later. Promising to make sure none of the others started coming over now and overwhelming the young girl, she then extracted her own promise from Enjolras that he'd meet up with them all as soon as possible.

"How about tonight?" Courfeyrac suggested. "We could all come round our place, we know we have enough seats for everyone there."

"Can't be too late, I've got Allie," Enjolras reminded him.

"Oh my father will look after her for you," Cosette offered. "I'm sure he won't mind, plus he's good with kids."

"Well then, thanks," he smiled. "And sure. Make sure I have the addresses and I'll be there."

* * *

"Enjolras!" Jehan squealed the moment the door was open, throwing his arms round the older man as he stood in the doorway, one hand still raised to knock. Enjolras laughed quietly and hugged him back tightly, having missed the poet far more than he would admit to anyone.

"Jehan! It's good to see you again mate."

"Your hair!" he was wailing moments later as he pulled back enough to see the damage down to the once longish curls. "What did you do?"

"I had to cut it for work," Enjolras explained, shrugging. "I may try and grow it again if my new boss allows it, but it's not the end of the world." Jehan almost looked like he was going to disagree when he was interrupted.

"Well will you look what the cat dragged in."

Enjolras looked over Jehan's head to smile at Eponine.

"Hey sweetheart."

Before he could say anything else though, the human cannonball that was Courfeyrac had charged in and was dragging him through the house to the lounge, leaving the others to shake their heads and close the doors behind him.

"So not everyone's here but we've got Cosette and Marius and Feuilly and Combeferre should be home soon. The others are all working though and Gavroche is at a friend's house but I'm sure you'll see them soon enough."

"Give the guy a chance to sit down and have a drink before you set off at him ten to the dozen, Courf," Feuilly laughed, lightly tossing Enjolras a bottle as he perched on the nearest seat. "Eponine has the opener, so you can drink it as soon as she gets up here." As Enjolras thanked him he took the chance to look round. Courfeyrac was alone on the love seat, though his arm was stretched out next to him, clearly waiting for someone to arrive. Marius and Cosette were curled up together in one of the armchairs, both looking incredibly pleased with life, and Feuilly was taking up an entire sofa, lying on his side so he could see the rest of the room.

"You realise Eponine's gonna want to sit there as well now," Marius pointed out, but Feuilly only shrugged.

"She'll live."

"I'll cut your beer supply off for the night," Eponine threatened teasingly from the door, smirking as Feuilly sat up instantly. "So what's this I hear about a kid?" she asked Enjolras as she opened his drink for him.

"Kid?" Feuilly repeated, glaring at Courfeyrac. "How come you failed to mention that bit?"

"You arrived too late."

"I've got a daughter," Enjolras told the pair, leaning back as Eponine flopped down next to Feuilly.

"Looks just look him," Courfeyrac butted in. "Lucky thing."

"And she's sweet as anything," Cosette added, smiling.

"Her name's Alana," Enjolras continued, but he was interrupted again.

"Who's name is Alana?" They all turned to see Combeferre standing in the doorway. When he caught sight of Enjolras, his eyebrows shot up before his expression turned slightly grim. "Where the bloody hell have you been?" he snapped.

"London," Enjolras said softly, standing.

"For over five years? Didn't you ever think of phoning or at least texting to let us know you were still alive?"

"I... I was going to. I just couldn't. By the time I could phone without wanting to come straight back, my life was too different."

"Let me guess, you'd met Alana." Most of the room winced at the sarcasm and bitterness in Combeferre's voice.

"Not quite." Enjolras sighed. "Dammit 'Ferre, I missed you, okay? I sent you a letter and you never replied so I gave up. Assumed you either moved house or it never arrived or you just didn't want to talk to me."

"Why are you here now then?"

"Work. And to answer your first question, Allie is my daughter."

If it had been a cartoon, Combeferre's jaw would have hit the floor.

"What?!"

"Yeah. Another part of why I didn't come back. I was considering it when she came on the scene.""

"Who's the mother?" Marius asked, eyes lingering on Enjolras's ringless fourth finger. "Do we get to meet her?"

Quickly, Enjolras recounted the story he'd told Courfeyrac at the cafe earlier.

"What a bitch," Eponine muttered, passing him a new drink in sympathy.

"Pretty much. Anyways enough about me. How've you guys been? Cosette, is that a ring I see? Congrats guys," - that one was aimed at Courfeyrac and Jehan, who were curled up on the love seat almost as close as Marius and Cosette - "when did that happen? And the cafe, when did you all start working there?"

"I bought it," Courfeyrac said proudly. "Worked as a lawyer for years and was saving up my money to buy a house, then that went up for sale. I'd considered something like that for years, so I took my chance. Used up most of my savings, hence why I currently live here for some of these guys. Got it all fixed up and then employed any of them who needed a job. The museum connected to us was going downhill, and we talked Combeferre and Bossuet into offering to take it off the council's hands. Most of us have other jobs as well, but Joly's the only one not to work with us at all. He's an Oncologist these days. And thanks mate." He grinned and pulled Jehan even closer, if that were physically possible.

"And yes, it is," Cosette confirmed, smiling lovingly at Marius as she did so. "He only proposed a couple of months ago, so we've got nothing planned yet, but we're thinking sometime next summer."

"That's great news. Congratulations, both of you!"

As the conversation continued, none of them saw the man standing in the shadows just outside the living room door. Grantaire watched the scene silently, eyes fixed on Enjolras, before turning and leaving the house, still unseen. Once outside he walked blindly, overcome by memories he'd blocked out for five years. He couldn't believe his friends hadn't at least warned him Enjolras was back.

When he finally noticed his surroundings again, he was outside a pub, at least three miles from his home. Not thinking, he checked he still had his wallet and went inside. He needed a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so thanks to Kel, the boy became a girl and Alana is Karen from Outnumbered (because she is literally perfect). So thank you for that!  
> In my head I see most of the Amis as the film versions (only older, obviously), apart from Jehan, who is Alistair Brammer but just with longer hair with ribbons and flowers and stuff, and Enjolras, who looks like Aaron Tveit in real life with the short hair and everything (plus Aaron is almost the right age of Enjolras in this).  
> Gavroche, I'm still working on. I may have a face for him by the time he comes in.
> 
> Thank you for all the responses!


	4. Pylades Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre loses his temper before going to help a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, not quite so happy with this one, but as I'm going away Wednesday for a couple of days, I wasn't sure if I'd have time to edit it (again) before then. So here you go.

Combeferre found himself relaxing more after an hour or so. He still wasn't happy with Enjolras but he decided he could have a quiet word with him sometime, instead of starting an argument in front of everyone. Instead he stayed mainly silent, allowing everyone else to bombard Enjolras with questions and answer them themselves, only speaking when someone else directed a sentence at him. By the end of the first half hour, if you ignored Combeferre's silence, it was as if Enjolras had never left.

Then the text arrived.

Digging out his phone, Combeferre glanced at the name before reading the message.

**_Grantaire's in the pub. He's drunk. I mean, seriously drunk. Like, from when he arrived. I'm refusing to serve him anything but water and he's getting pissed at me. Do something! -Bahorel_ **

"Shit!" he hissed, jumping up.

"What is it?" Feuilly asked worriedly, everyone watching him for an answer.

"Bahorel just texted," he replied, voice and face grim. He looked over at Courferac. "So you failed to text him too. And there was me thinking you weren't a total idiot." Nobody had to ask who he was talking about.

"I lost my phone!" Courfeyrac protested, while Feuilly dug out his own phone to ring Bahorel and Cosette, Jehan and Eponine all tried texting Grantaire. "I was telling people when they arrived, but Enjolras arrived before we thought he would and I just forgot, okay!" He got defensive under Combeferre's accusing stare. "How bad is it?" he asked quietly, not meeting his friend's eyes.

"He's hammered," Combeferre said bluntly.

"What's new there?" Enjolras muttered, sighing sadly.

"Plenty," Combeferre snapped, switching his glare to him. "For your information, Grantaire hasn't had an alcoholic drink since the day after you left. God only knows how he managed it because there were days when he looked like he would kill to have a beer but he did. You broke his fucking heart and so he built himself into someone different so the same thing couldn't happen again. You disappeared for over five bloody years, Enjolras! You can't expect everything to be exactly the same when you decide to come swanning back into our lives."

"I didn't expect things to be the same!" Enjolras protested but Combeferre ignored him, carrying on as if he'd said nothing. Enjolras may have been his best friend, but that didn't mean he agreed with everything he did or wouldn't tell him the truth when it was needed.

"And showing up with no warning! How did you think he'd react? Pretend nothing ever happened? Expect him to just jump into your arms and carry on where you left off? Forgive you instantly? You're included in this one as well, Courfeyrac. And you, Jehan, and anyone else who knew he was back before he arrived. Actually, screw that. You all have your phones, any one of you could have warned him. I don't care so much that seeing him was a surprise, but it means something different to him."

"I didn't think it was something that should be broken to him over the phone," Jehan mumbled. "I thought he was out tonight, I was going to try and find him when he got back and tell him then, face to face. He told me he was working till midnight."

"That's no excuse," Combeferre replied, in no mood to make exceptions. "Now if you don't mind, I won't continue with the party. I've Grantaire to pick up." Turning, he stormed from the room.

Silence fell, everyone looking round at each other guiltily. As people fell into a mumbling round of "I thought you were telling him", "no I didn't tell him because I thought you had", only Jehan and Cosette noticed Enjolras stand and slip out of the room after Combeferre.

"'Ferre," he called softly, seeing how his friend's shoulders stiffened when he heard. Combeferre slowed as he reached the foot of the stairs and turned to look back up at him. Enjolras said nothing until he had reached him. He laid one hand on Combeferre's shoulder softly before pulling him into a hug. Combeferre froze for a moment before letting himself relax and hug Enjolras back, burying his face in his friend's shoulder.

"God I missed you," he whispered, letting his shields down. "Don't you dare leave again."

"Not planning on doing," Enjolras admitted, pulling back. "At least, not for many years. Hacker is a safe seat, so I shouldn't be transferred." He sighed. "I missed all of you guys too."

Combeferre felt a lot calmer now he'd had his rant at Enjolras and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, can we talk later? I really should be going, it sounds like Grantaire is in a bad way and none of the others are still fit to drive."

"Can I come with you?" Enjolras asked quietly after a moments pause.

"Enjolras, I don't think he'll want to see you," Combeferre said, as gently as he could. "Give him time, okay?"

"Sure," he agreed finally. "Just... Can you please make sure he's okay? Please?"

"I always do," Combeferre said with a small shrug and a smile. "It became my unofficial job." The words 'when you left' didn't need to be said for Enjolras to hear them. "I'll call you," he promised as he turned to leave. Enjolras stayed standing in the hallway watching him, only turning to go back upstairs when the front door shut behind Combeferre.

* * *

"Can I kill Courf?" Bahorel asked the moment Combeferre entered the bar, and from the look on his face Combeferre knew it could happen.

"Not without hurting Jehan," he replied, glancing round. "Where and how bad?"

"I've stuck him in the back room and ain't serving him anything else, but it's not good. Hell, it's about as far from good as is possible. I mean, Cosette said earlier that Enjolras was back but I thought the meeting tonight was to tell everyone of this fact, not to bring Enjolras back into the fold. Courfeyrac should have told us all first."

"He lost his phone," Combeferre explained wearily, his anger at the matter having deflated slightly now. "But I happen to agree with Jehan. It's not something Grantaire should be told over the phone. However, it's also not something he should have found out by accident. How did he find out? I'm assuming that is why he's drunk and not some other reason."

"From what I can tell, he got home and saw you all sat round laughing and joking with Enjolras." Bahorel gave him an accusing look.

"I was saying nothing!" Combeferre protested. "You know I'm not entirely happy with what went on, especially due to the state Grantaire was in afterwards."

"You bastard," they suddenly heard from behind them, and Combeferre turned to see a very drunk-looking Grantaire leaning in the doorway and glaring at him. "You fucking knew and you didn't fucking tell me."

"Grantaire, I'd only just found out, I swear. I thought Courf had told you."

"He's a bastard as well," Grantaire announced loudly, letting Combeferre drag one of his arms over his shoulders and leaning his full weight on him. "Where is he? I wanna talk to him!"

"No you don't," Combeferre said quickly. "He's at home, so you're not going to see him."

"I still fucking love him," Grantaire mumbled, his mood dipping dramatically as he remembered the shock of seeing Enjolras in the flesh again. Combeferre sighed, only now remembering Grantaire's habit of swearing too much when drunk.

"I know," he said sympathetically, smiling his thanks at Bahorel as he opened the car door for them. Making a split decision (mostly based on Combeferre trying to work out whether or not he would end up punching Courfeyrac if he saw him again that night), Combeferre decided to take Grantaire back to his flat.

He glanced over at Grantaire who had practically passed out on the seat next to him, drooling onto the seatbelt Combeferre had just about managed to fasten round him.  He looked so devestated and totally heart-broken that Combeferre's heart went out to him and he couldn't blame him for falling off the wagon.

Reaching his flat, he somehow managed to get Grantaire out of the car and up the stairs, almost dropping him onto the bed when he made it into his room. Once Grantaire was tucked up, Combeferre found a glass of water and some tablets, leaving them on the table next to Grantaire for the following morning. The hangover was not going to be pretty.

His phone buzzed as he reached his kitchen and he pulled it out, answering without looking at the caller ID.

"If this is Courfeyrac using a different phone, I'm still going to kill you."

"No, it's 'Ponine," Eponine said quietly, and Combeferre sank down into the nearest chair. "'Ferre, I thought he knew. If I'd known he didn't... I honestly thought he already knew." She hesitated slightly. "How is he?"

"Shit," Combeferre said honestly, glancing back at the doorway. "It's going to be harder for him to quit this time, if he wants to at all, and I think we can say for definite that he's not over him."

"He shouldn't have come back," she said bitterly and the silence that followed this statement told him she was on her own.

"That can't be helped now," he said diplomatically, and sighed again. "Nothing we can do."

"Yeah."

The silence dragged on for almost a minute before Combeferre opened his mouth to speak again.

"I don't know if I'll be able to go out tomorrow. I'm sorry, it's just-"

"I get it," she interrupted. "Grantaire needs you right now. Well, he needs someone and he may kill Courfeyrac, if one of us hasn't already."

"Don't kill him, he's your boss. You need the money."

"I could always move in with you if I got thrown out of my flat," she replied instantly, voice low and the smirk clear even without him having to see her. He smiled and agreed, flirting lightly as he waited for dawn to rise and the shit to hit the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one should hopefully include E/R! Thanks again for all your response to this, it's inspiring me to write more faster than normal!


	5. Explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras waits for Grantaire to come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you're lucky here. It's nearly 2am and I've stayed up to finish this because I leave for Cardiff at 6 and won't be back till late Thursday.  
> However, this means I haven't edited the chapter at all. I can't be bothered and it's too late/early/a godforsaken hour. I hope you still enjoy it though.  
> As promised - here be E/R!

It was a very subdued looking Courfeyrac who opened the door to Enjolras next day.

"He's not here," were his first words. "He stayed at Combeferre's last night. And no, I don't know when or even if he's coming home."

"Ah," Enjolras said sadly, glancing down the street as if in hope that Grantaire would be returning at that precise moment. "Are you okay? You look like crap."

"We've all been a bit worried," Courfeyrac sighed. "I can't believe I let him just walk into that."

"He'll forgive you eventually," Enjolras reassured him.

"Yeah, I guess. Maybe. However, until then, I have a cafe that isn't going to run itself. Feel free to let yourself in to wait, everyone else is out." He frowned. "Hang on, where's Alana?"

"Cosette showed up first thing this morning, saying I had places I needed to be and that Allie didn't need to be in the middle of all that." He smiled slightly. "I was wrong all those years ago, Marius couldn't have picked a better woman."

"She is an angel in disguise," Courfeyrac agreed. "Time to see how many staff I still have and how many of them hate me. See you later." And grabbing his car keys from just inside the house he left, leaving Enjolras standing in the doorway. Pulling the door to, Enjolras sat down on the step and leant backwards against the wall, watching and waiting.

* * *

There had been many occasions over the past three years where Combeferre had fallen asleep at that particular kitchen table, but he swore that every time it grew more uncomfortable. As he tried to get the kinks out of his neck, he heard noises behind him and turned to see Grantaire shuffling into the room sheepishly.

"No I'm not going to yell at you for drinking," Combeferre said instantly, pushing the second mug of coffee towards his friend. "And no you can't kill Courfeyrac but you can yell at him. If your head will allow you to that is."

"Thank you," Grantaire muttered as he sank into a seat and almost downed his coffee in one. "For helping last night."

"How do you feel?" Combeferre asked quietly.

"Take a guess," he laughed hollowly. "So I take it from your statement that Courfeyrac was supposed to tell me."

"He saw Enjolras first and just invited him round without thinking that he'd need to tell people first. As he lost his phone last week, he forgot to borrow someone elses to text round and let us know what was going on, and everyone else assumed he'd done it as he'd taken charge on the whole thing."

"So basically Courf being an idiot again."

"Pretty much."

"Well there's nothing new there."

"Piece of advice: let Courf stew on it for a few days before publically forgiving him. He could do with it to make him try and learn."

"So what's the gossip that I missed?" Grantaire asked finally, after a few moments of silence. "Other than En- him being back." He changed his words quickly.

"He's here through work and it sounds like he's in town to stay. He's working for our local MP, Jim Hacker, so it's not like he'll be fired anytime soon." Combeferre considered telling him about Alana then decided that piece of news was Enjolras's to break. "Feuilly got promoted yesterday, and I got a call off someone wanting to arrange an exhibition in the Gallery at work. Yet to find out the theme though."

"That's great," Grantaire said tonelessly, staring down into his empty mug and wishing it were a bottle of something. "In other news, I got made redundant."

"What?!" Combeferre yelped, yelping again when he spilt his coffee.

"They laid off our whole department. Said it's cheaper to get in outside workers on temporary contracts."

"But you designed the entire place!"

"And there's nothing we can do to save our jobs," Grantaire finished. "It's a good job I live with the guys because there's no way I could afford rent otherwise."

"Is there anywhere else you could apply?"

"Not for design, all the other businesses are full in that area. That's what I've been doing these past few days - scouring the town for work."

"You should have told us," Combeferre chastised, frowning. "How long has this been going on for?"

"Two weeks and three days," Grantaire sighed.

"Dammit 'Taire! You've been telling us you've been working longer hours, not job hunting!"

"I know I know, keep your voice down," he mumbled, dropping his head down into his hands. "You know, if I can't find work, it won't matter that he moved back here. I'll have to leave and try elsewhere soon."

"Nonsense," Combeferre said firmly, knowing he spoke for all their friends as he continued. "Courfeyrac isn't planning on kicking you out of the cafe any time soon, you do make the best cakes in town after all, and I could do with the advice of an artist on this new exhibition. We'll muddle through somehow. And if it turns out you can't even afford to stay with Courf, Jehan, Feuilly and Bahorel, then you can move in here."

"You only have one room," Grantaire pointed out. "And much as I love you as a mate, I refuse to share."

"Chill, you're not my type," Combeferre laughed. "I mean it though. The office is meant to be a spare room, you can stay there. Not that they'd kick you out, but just as an option if you ever needed it."

"Well, thanks," Grantaire said finally, smiling over at his friend. "Though right now I could do with going home. Right after having a shower."

"I'll drive," offered Combeferre instantly. "It's a long walk with a hangover."

* * *

The car slowed as both the occupants noticed the blonde man sat by the house at the same time. Combeferre swore lightly under his breath, wondering just what Enjolras was playing at, while Grantaire sighed somewhat resignedly, knowing he had to talk to him eventually.

"We can just keep going." Grantaire shook his head instantly.

"No, I need to talk to him. I can't run forever."

"I told him to give you time."

"Well now's as good a time as ever. I'm sober and not quite as pissed off as I was last night. I've got over the shock."

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Combeferre, will you just quit worrying and drop me off before you're late for work?"

"Phone me if anything goes wrong," Combeferre made Grantaire promise before letting him out of the car, hesitating for a moment before driving away, knowing they needed their privacy.

Grantaire wandered over towards the house and Enjolras, noticing how the other man had sat up when he'd seen the car slow then stand when Grantaire climbed out. He knew he looked rough so the reason behind the worried look on Enjolras's face was obvious, but Grantaire still had to stop himself from asking if everything was okay. Stopping just in front of Enjolras, he studied him in silence for a few minutes, knowing Enjolras was doing the same.

"Hi," he said finally, his voice coming out cracked and rough, far more so than usual.

"Hey." Enjolras sounded deathly nervous and Grantaire almost laughed at the thought.

"So the great Apollo deigns to give us his time again," he said sarcastically, it being the only way for him to keep the old pain from his voice.

Enjolras opened his mouth to reply then stopped, searching for words that wouldn't start an argument or sound pathetic. Eventually he settled for a weak, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Grantaire scoffed. "Sorry? That doesn't mean anything."

"It does," Enjolras said earnestly, taking a step towards him. "It means everything I don't know how to say."

"Try."

"What?"

"Try and say it properly." Grantaire folded his arms and waited. He was owed more than some stupid two word apology.

"Can I try inside?" Enjolras asked nervously, both stalling for time and conscious of the neighbours' curtains twitching slightly.

"Sure," Grantaire shrugged. "May as well be comfortable."

Once they'd reached the lounge, Grantaire flopped down on the sofa and looked over at Enjolras again.

"So."

Enjolras sighed and started to talk, pacing the room as he did so.

"So. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was such a jerk and an idiot and for everything I did. Running that night was the most stupid decision I ever made in my life. I don't know what I was thinking. Actually, I do. I was scared because of everything that had happened and after the events of that evening, I was scared we were going to end up finishing what we had and I couldn't cope with the idea of you leaving me yet me still seeing you all the time so I took the cowards way out and ran. I'm sorry I cut you out of my life completely. I'm sorry I just showed up again without a single word of warning. After so long I shouldn't have come back, I should have just asked them to assign me to a different MP. I'm sorry for every single word I ever said against you back then because you need to know that I didn't mean them. I got mad and upset and disappointed and wanted you to be someone you couldn't be because I was a stupid idealist who thought he could fix everything and everyone when he couldn't. I shouldn't have called you everything I did because it didn't help. More than anything I'm sorry I hit you." Enjolras took a deep breath and stopped in the centre of the room, spinning to face Grantaire. "I'm sorry for everything. Well, almost everything. The only thing I'm not sorry for is Alana."

There was a long pause.

"Who the fuck is Alana?" Grantaire demanded.

"My daughter," Enjolras replied. "It's a long story."

"We've got time," Grantaire shrugged, shuffling over on the sofa to give Enjolras space to sit down.

Perching next to him, Enjolras started the tale, leaving nothing out. He knew Grantaire deserved to know the truth about everything so he told him all the sordid details he'd missed out from what he'd told the others, explaining about the screaming matches in the early hours of the morning and how she'd gotten them kicked out of his apartment a month before she was due, simply to make his life hell. When he reached Alana his face lit up and he shared every little thing he could think of, from how her little smile made him feel on top of the world and how he would do anything for her, to the temper tantrums she could throw when she didn't get her way and the mischief she could get up to if she put her mind to it. Grantaire stayed silent and listened, letting himself get drawn into the story in much the same way as he used to be drawn into Enjolras's speeches years before. By the end he almost felt as if Enjolras had never left, the acute anger from before having faded into something softer, something he couldn't quite name.

"-and I knew the schools round this area were decent, so I found a flat to rent and we moved back up here," Enjolras finished. Glancing at the clock he realised how long he'd been talking for and flushed slightly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to go on for so long."

"It's fine," Grantaire reassured him.

"So, what about you?" Enjolras asked after another, thankfully shorter, awkward silence.

"Not a lot to say really. Well, not that's important. I quit alcohol just after you left and smoking two years ago. Last night was the first relapse. I got a job in a design department for one of the local businesses and worked my way up to head of department, but as we all got made redundant last week, that doesn't really mean much. I bake for Courfeyrac and the cafe, but that's about it. No significant others in my life, of any sort."

He paused, taking the opportunity to study Enjolras from close quarters. He had to admit that the short hair looked good but he still missed those familiar curls which he had loved to run his hands through and tug until Enjolras had needed to search for a brush before he was in a neat enough state to even leave his room. There weren't many lines showing on his face (not that he'd really expected there to be after only five years) but those present were clearly laughter lines. Grantaire had to fight down the urge to run his thumb over them and demand to know why Enjolras seemed to have laughed so much after leaving him when he had always been so serious before. The wave of emotion he felt welled up inside and although he tried to fight it down, it took over.

He sobbed out loud once, quickly jumping to his feet to try and escape before Enjolras realised what was happening. Enjolras was too quick though, pulling Grantaire back down and turning his face to look at him. That one look was enough for Enjolras to pull the artist into his arms, the dark-haired man giving up the fight almost instantly. Grantaire shook with the tears that fell fast and freely, soaking Enjolras's shirt as he buried his face into the other man's shoulder. Enjolras simply held him, one hand rubbing slow circles on his back while the other rested in his hair, soothing him as best he could.

Eventually the tears began to slow and Grantaire mumbled something which sounded like an apology.

"I missed you," he muttered straight afterwards, face still hidden. "In case you hadn't guessed."

"I missed you too," Enjolras admitted, suddenly exhausted. "A hell of a lot."

Turning slightly on the sofa so he could pull his legs up and stretch out, Enjolras leant backwards, still with Grantaire hugged to him. The other man was partly on top of him but neither cared, both drifting off to sleep almost instantly, Grantaire's head still in the crook of Enjolras's neck and a soft smile on the blonde man's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So no update for a few days now I'm afraid. Thank you all for your responses - it's overwhelming!


	6. Later That Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire has a shock, Alana is introduced, and Jehan's poetry is scarring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this chapter went completely in the opposite direction to what I'd planned, which may not be a bad thing (though I can't remember my original plan to decide if it is or not). So hope you enjoy it anyways.

Grantaire felt safe and warm as he slowly woke, keeping his eyes shut and stretching out slightly. He didn't want to wake up properly, instead snuggling further into the warm embrace he was held in.

Realising there was someone in his bed - or that he was in someone else's bed - Grantaire snapped his eyes open, staring at the person next to him. The familiar face was the last thing he expected to see and he threw himself backwards, hitting the floor with a thud as he slipped off the edge of the sofa.

"What the hell?" he squeaked, staring up at Enjolras in shock. The other man had woken when Grantaire had pulled away and now pushed himself up onto his elbows, squinting over at him.

"Is there a reason why your voice is so high?" he mumbled, rubbing at one eye absentmindedly. Before Grantaire could reply, Courfeyrac had bounced in through the door.

"We're ba-ack!" he sang, beaming at them both. "Oh, hey 'Taire. I didn't expect to see you today. Look, sorry about last night, I'm an idiot but you forgive me, right?"

"Courfeyrac, shut up," Jehan whispered from behind him, correctly reading the tense body language Grantaire was given off (not to mention he could see the wide-eyed stare on the dark haired man).

"Sure," Grantaire mumbled in reply to Courfeyrac's question, not taking his eyes off Enjolras.

"Come on," Jehan said firmly, tugging at Courfeyrac's arm. "Leave them to have a few minutes in peace."

"But they've had that," he whined before Jehan gave him an exasperated look and it finally clicked. "Ohhhhh. Yeah, okay, let's go."

Enjolras and Grantaire stayed silent until they'd left, though Enjolras flashed Jehan a quick and thankful smile.

"So I'm guessing the voice was due to shock," he said quietly, swinging his legs round so he was sat on the edge of the sofa, forearms resting on his thighs.

"Uh-huh," Grantaire muttered, not meeting his eyes. "That and I couldn't remember what happened at that precise moment.

"Oh. Oh! You mean you thought we'd..." Enjolras's voice trailed off when Grantaire nodded quickly, his face starting to burn up. "Oh." He paused. "Does that happen often? You waking up and not knowing who you're with or what happened?"

"No. At least, it only ever happened when I'd drunk way too much and not when I was in a relationship, so not for seven years."

"What are you going to do now?" Enjolras asked, relieved to hear Grantaire was starting to take his life and looking after himself more seriously these days.

"How do you mean? Like, right this minute?"

"Like, you having lost your job. Are you going to be okay?"

"No. Just no. No fucking way. You stop right there," Grantaire demanded, jumping to his feet and glaring at Enjolras. "You are not turning me into a cause, got it? I am perfectly capable of looking after myself and sorting my own life out. I'm 28, I'm a big boy now and I can manage fine. Understood?"

"Completely," Enjolras replied, raising his hands slightly as a show of peace. "I wasn't even thinking of that, I was just worried you might get thrown out of your flat or something if you were going to struggle paying rent with no job."

"Well I won't, because I live here with Jehan, Courfeyrac, Bahorel and Feuilly."

"If either one of you swears you'll have me to contend with," came Cosette's voice from the doorway suddenly, interrupting Grantaire. "We have a young lady here and I will not let her be brought up to use words like that."

"Allie." Enjolras's face lit up slightly and he got to his feet, pushing past Grantaire to pick the little girl up as she ran over. "Has she behaved?" he asked Cosette as he hugged his daughter, laughing as she poked him.

"Listen to me," she demanded before starting to babble on about everything they'd done that morning and how the "kind old man last night gave me ice cream and let me stay up late and can I go there again?"

"She's been an absolute angel," Cosette reassured him. "In fact, any time I'm not working and you need her looking after, I'm perfectly willing to stand in. Even papa is willing to look after her as well - she's winning everyone over."

"So this is Alana."

Turning, Enjolras nodded at Grantaire.

"Allie," he said softly to Alana, walking over until he was right next to Grantaire. Cosette wisely slipped out of the room, understand perfectly. "I'd like you to meet someone special. This is Grantaire."

"Granere," she tried, and Grantaire couldn't help but smile.

"Close enough." Enjolras set her down when she tugged at his sleeve and Grantaire crouched so he was on the same level as her, holding out one hand. "You can call me R."

"Hello R," she said, smiling prettily over at him and grabbing his hand with both of hers. Laughing, he let her smile melt his heart. "Alana," she announced proudly, pointing at herself.

"Well Alana, it's a pleasure to meet you." She frowned briefly at his formal greeting before suddenly tugging at his arm, pulling him towards the sofa.

"TV?" she pleaded, making her best bambi eyes at him.

"If your daddy says yes." Still not letting go of his hand she span and stared up at Enjolras, begging him silently.

"If Grantaire doesn't mind kids TV," he allowed, smiling. "And you do whatever he says, okay?" Enjolras glanced up at Grantaire. "Are you okay with that?"

"Yeah, course. I don't mind kids, though it's not often I get stuck with them."

"I meant, are you okay with her on your own? I need to talk to Cosette, but it can wait..."

"Go," Grantaire said firmly. "I can cope. I mean it. Now then missie, what would you like to watch? And no modern stuff please, the old ones are far better. Ooh, Scooby Doo was always good. Actually, no, look, that one has Tom and Jerry! Ah, now that takes me back." He glanced down at her. "Actually, I know just the show." Skipping down a few channels, he chose a program and sat back on the sofa, grinning at the entranced look on her face as Powerpuff Girls started.

* * *

"Alana seems sweet," Jehan smiled, pushing a mug across the table to Cosette. Thanking him she picked up and started reading one of the sheets that was lying on the table in front of him, laughing when he blushed and pulled it away quickly.

"You should write less dirty poetry," she teased, relaxing back into her chair. "So how come Courf ran out again?"

"Because he forgot he's meant to be meeting with the wedding licensee person tonight," Jehan replied absentmindedly, scribbling on the paper he'd snatched from Cosette.

"You know, you should make him talk to a registrar instead," Cosette suggested. Jehan blushed even more and shook his head quickly, refusing to even think of the notion of getting married.

"Maybe you should as well," Enjolras said from the doorway, walking over to join them. "After all, we don't want you getting broody if you keep on looking after Alana like you're offering to do."

"I'm not going to get broody!" she denied instantly, mock-glaring at them both as they smirked. "I mean it! Plus, you know, we only just got engaged."

"And?" the two men asked as one.

"You are both hopeless." Rolling her eyes, Cosette turned her attention to Enjolras alone. "So how are they getting along?"

"Perfectly," he smiled happily. "Couldn't be going better." The smile faded for a moment. "Well, things would be going perfect if he could speak to me without either getting mad or bursting into tears, but I never expected him to forgive me."

"Can I just ask, why was he on the floor with you lying on the sofa?" Jehan asked shyly, glancing over.

"Because we fell asleep on the sofa and when he woke up he freaked and threw himself backwards to get away from me." He noticed their stares. "What?"

"You fell asleep on the sofa?" Cosette asked disbelievingly.

"Seriously?" Jehan echoed.

Enjolras knew he could trust the pair to keep quiet so he told them the truth. "We were talking earlier and I ended up comforting him when he got upset, and then we both sort of ended up on the sofa with him in my arms." He frowned. "It felt right. I guess we both just forgot for a few minutes."

"You still love him," Jehan nodded.

"I never said that," Enjolras said quickly, glancing from one to the other as they gave him disbelieving looks again. "He's just one of my best friends, I hate him hating me, okay? Anyways, moving on and changing the subject. Cosette, I've got Allie booked down for nursery but it's only three days a week. Would either you or your dad be able to look after her the other days until I manage to find a child minder or something? I can pay you, don't worry about that, it's just that they want me to start work tomorrow and as I sort of spent today sleeping, my job of searching someone out failed."

"Well you searched out one person," Cosette started to tease, but she stopped when she saw the look in Enjolras's eyes. "Of course, don't worry about it at all. You get settled into your job and we can worry about a child minder once you're sorted there. Papa rarely goes out other than to church, so he'll always be free."

"Are you sure?"

"Completely." Standing, she leant forwards and kissed his cheek. "I wouldn't have offered if I weren't. Now, I have to go get ready for the theatre, but I'll see you tomorrow. What time do you have to be at work for?"

"Nine."

"Drop Alana either here or at mine then, and I'll get her to papa's before I start my shift." Waving at them, she bounced out of the door, humming _All About You_ as she went.

"Jesus Christ, Jehan!" Enjolras suddenly gasped, turning bright red as he flung the poem Jehan had missed him picking up down onto the table. "And there was me thinking you were the normal, sane, non-filthy minded one in the relationship!"

"Will people stop reading my poetry!" Jehan squealed, turning even brighter red than Enjolras (if that were possible) and pulling all the paperwork towards him, shoving it into a folder quickly. "It's private!"

"And scarring."

"Like you were much better with your speeches when you were dating Grantaire. You became sickeningly sweet and often made badly hidden inuendos when he was there and sober enough to listen, though you only stopped when he was drunk because he'd kiss you. In front of everyone. Way too indecently for public."

"Says the man dating Courfeyrac, the king of public displays of affection."

Jehan opened his mouth to argue then closed it again seconds later.

"Okay, fine, you win. Piece of advice? Only read the poetry if I've handed it to you or if it's been published."

"Advice taken. Just keep it away from Alana or I'll gut you."

Jehan had the worrying feeling that Enjolras wasn't joking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all your responses!


	7. Interference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre and Bahorel are sick of having to watch Grantaire drink himself to death so take action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was incredibly hard to write. As in, it's taken me since Friday when I first decided Bahorel could have a rant. Hopefully it's okay.

The next few days passed quickly, with Enjolras and Alana settling into a rhythm. Every morning Enjolras would drop Alana off either with the nursery, Cosette or Valjean before heading for work. He loved his new job, that was obvious to everyone. The chance to work with a politician like Jim Hacker, one who would listen to what all of his staff had to say before making decisions, was one he had been after for a while and he could barely believe his luck.

In the afternoon he'd pick Alana up and spend the afternoon out somewhere, often the park. He had barely been back to Courfeyrac's after his first day at work, only dropping in occasionally to say hello. Grantaire had stumbled in half an hour after Enjolras and Alana had arrived, snatching a beer off Courfeyrac and practically disappearing into a corner, never speaking but watching Enjolras and getting steadily drunker as the night progressed. Enjolras had tried to ignore this fact but couldn't, in the end making excuses so he could escape the awkwardness that had seeped into the room with Grantaire's arrival.

All the friends were worried about Grantaire but none more than Combeferre and Bahorel. They had front row seats to their friend's self-destruction for the second time and neither really knew what to do. The first night Grantaire met Alana, he managed to stay sober until Enjolras had left, ignoring the urge to find a bottle so Enjolras wouldn't see just how messed up his head currently was. Straight after he went to the nearest bar, buying drink after drink until Feuilly walked in with a date, saw him and rang Combeferre. For the second night in a row Combeferre found himself with Grantaire sleeping off the alcohol in his flat, this time spending the night on his own couch instead of a kitchen chair.

By the next night, and every single night after that, Grantaire found he didn't care what Enjolras thought, instead often finding himself in Bahorel's pub. The choice was simple: one, the beer was better, and two, he knew unconsciously that someone would get him home safely. Grantaire wasn't trying to destroy himself, he just wanted to forget and drinking was the only way he knew. Bahorel did what he could, refusing to sell Grantaire drinks once he felt he'd drunk enough or simply removing the bottle from his table, but he was never the only bar staff on duty and he had to do his job as well as babysit his friend. For that reason, Combeferre was called out most nights.

Combeferre had about as little influence as Bahorel. He wasn't strong enough to pull the drinks away but he could occasionally talk Grantaire into stopping for the night. His main role was to get Grantaire home safely, either to his flat or the house, dependant on Grantaire's state.

The two friends had spent many afternoons trying to work out what they were going to do to try and help Grantaire, but were getting nowhere. Finally, the came up with a plan of sorts.

Combeferre hadn't been needed that night, Bahorel having been on a shift which finished early enough for him to drag Grantaire home, and Combeferre was taking advantage of the situation. Stroking Eponine's hair off her forehead, he kissed it softly, kissing her properly moments later.

"Love you," he murmured, moving his arms to wrap them round her. She said nothing in reply but shifted closer on the bed, using his upper chest as a pillow. He carried on stroking her hair gently, sighing as he stared up at the ceiling.

"I need your help," he said quietly.

"Oh? For what?"

"I need you to go to London for a couple of days. Get Grantaire out of the way. Stop him from drinking while down there, if possible. He only seems to drink too much when he's been around Enjolras, but in a town this small he runs into him a lot."

"And you want me to go to London?" Eponine sat up and stared down at him in disbelief. "Seriously? I can't afford that!"

"I can, relax." He sat up as well and took her hand in his. "I'm sorry, if I could think something else up then I would have. He's refusing to talk to me, but he may to you."

"I don't know," she hesitated. "Are you sure this will work?"

"He needs to get away. After everything that's happened these past two weeks, I'm scared for him."

"Why me?"

"He trusts you."

"And? He trusts you too. The main reason he doesn't talk to you is because he's always pissed out of his skull when he's around you, or hungover."

"No, he doesn't talk to me because I was Enjolras's best friend," Combeferre pointed out. "Plus it's not what we do. I look after him, he pretends nothing is happening and we never talk. I don't know how to change that. We didn't talk when Enjolras first left and that's probably my fault, but it means that I don't know how to approach the subject now because I should have five years of experience on this topic behind me and I don't." Combeferre took in a deep breath when he finished, trying to slow his words slightly.

"So you're turning to me," Eponine said bluntly.

"Yes." He sighed again. "Please?"

"Dammit 'Ferre, fine," she growled. "I'll go to bloody London." Leaning forwards, he kissed her.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"And what are you going to be doing while I'm off there?"

"Me and Bahorel need to have a chat with Enjolras," he said grimly.

* * *

"Where are we going?" Grantaire demanded as Eponine dragged him to the train station.

"London."

"Why?"

"Art and design convention. Combeferre saw it advertised, thought you may enjoy it. Plus, I have tickets for a West End show."

"If you say anything girly, I swear to god I'll pass any and all blackmail material I have on to Gavroche," Grantaire threatened, glaring at her.

"American Idiot!" she squealed quickly. "Nothing girly, I swear!"

"Well that's okay then," he relaxed. "How long we there for?"

"A week. And you are going to be the best company I've ever had, or I'll pass my own blackmail material along to folks." She grinned at him evilly as he rolled his eyes.

"I'll think about it."

* * *

Combeferre and Bahorel glanced up at the doors for the hundreth time since arriving at their bench, waiting impatiently.

"I thought he was meant to finish half an hour ago," Bahorel grumbled, pulling his coat tighter round his shoulders. "It's too fucking cold for this."

"It's the only way we'll get him alone," Combeferre reminded him. "Plus, this is Enjolras. He never finishes work on time." He sat up straight when he saw their target leave the building. "There he is."

The pair stood and approached, arriving one on either side of Enjolras.

"Oh, hey guys," he said distractedly, glancing up from his phone.

"You don't need to ring Cosette to apologise," Combeferre told him, plucking the phone from his hand and dropping it into his own pocket. "She's looking after Alana over night."

"Why?"

"Because we need to talk," Bahorel said firmly. "And she happens to agree with us."

"Look guys, seriously, can it not wait?"

"No, because you're being a selfish twat and we need to sort this out right this minute before you screw things up any more than you already have done."

"Bahorel, calm," Combeferre murmured before turning to Enjolras. "No it can't wait. We're going back to mine and we're not leaving until this is sorted."

"Grantaire," Enjolras guessed.

"Grantaire," Combeferre confirmed.

"You've fucked things up, so you're helping solve them," Bahorel inputted.

"Back to yours it is then," Enjolras said, looking from Bahorel to Combeferre.

* * *

Bahorel barely let Enjolras get inside Combeferre's flat when he let rip.

"You're a fucking selfish prick, you know that? First you just vanish off to god knows where, leaving a bloody letter as a way to break up with Grantaire and nearly fucking destroying him. Then you just show up again out of the blue and think you know best, nearly destroying him for a second time!  Can't you see what you're doing to him? Everything he worked towards in the past five years, towards getting you out of his life, you ruined in five minutes. So congratulations. I hope you're happy."

"But... He didn't seem so bad that day." Enjolras looked from one to the other.

"He's a good actor when he has to be," Combeferre shrugged. "I picked up on that years ago, when you first left. He bottles it all up inside and never talks to anyone about what he's feeling - at least, not his true feelings - and puts on a brave face, pretending everything's fine. And most of the time, we let him. Maybe we shouldn't, but he hates anyone trying to interfere and vanishes for a few days if we so much as try, so we just keep an eye on him as best we can and let him live his life. After a while, he seems to manage to sort it out in his head and he goes back to normal. Some people never even notice there was anything wrong with him at all."

"But we're the ones who get to pick up the pieces when he finds out he can't cope with it that way anymore," Bahorel interrupted. "We have to sit there and watch one of our best friends drinking his life away and I for one don't know what to do, and that's your fault."

"I told you to give him time," continued Combeferre, not giving Enjolras the chance to say anything. "I specifically told you, only the night before. And what do you do? Show up next morning and wait for him. I wanted to just drive straight past and leave you but he wouldn't, because he knew he'd have to face you at some point and for some reason decided to do it then. Were you actually thinking of anyone other than yourself at that moment? Did you not stop and think to yourself 'Hmm, I wonder what me showing up like this then insisting on seeing Grantaire straight away even when he doesn't want and isn't ready to see me will do to him'? Are you so self-obsessed that you didn't even care?"

"Of course I care," Enjolras protested, but he was cut off by Bahorel.

"Funny way you got of showing it. All you're doing here is being cruel. You leaving five years ago, now I always thought you'd never manage to do anything worse than that. I refuse to believe things were so bad that you couldn't have sorted it out through talking to Grantaire. I know what happened that night and I don't care if he did tell you to fuck off. This is Grantaire speaking to you, it's not like he meant it seriously. He worshipped the ground you walked on for some crazy ass reason. But you coming back is a thousand times worse. You walk back into our lives like you'd never left, bringing your daughter to try and charm everyone over, and somehow it's working on most of them. Probably because you were only ever really close to a few of us. Courfeyrac is willing to forgive anyone anything, but I've noticed Marius has barely said anything to you, even if you are getting on well with Cosette and no I'm not trying to hint anything there. He seems to be the sanest out of the rest of them, well him and Feuilly, but that's after he found Grantaire. That day you thought Grantaire "didn't seem so bad"? Barely an hour after you'd left, Feuilly found Grantaire passed out in the corner of the bar he went with a date. How's that for "not so bad"?"

Combeferre interrupted before Bahorel could start yelling.

"Now none of us would have had a problem with you coming back if it weren't for Grantaire. You've gone about this all the wrong way, Enjolras. He never stopped loving you, not even when you broke his heart. Hell, for some strange reason he still loves you now. You went around things the wrong way though. If you'd given him time to get his head round the fact that you're back, to come to terms with what that would mean and _then and only then_ tried to get in touch with him, then we wouldn't have this problem. If you'd let us tell him before you accepted Courfeyrac's stupid offer of going round that first night, then it may not have been such a shock. The worse thing you could have done was not give him time. In time, he may have been ready to accept you back as a friend. I don't know, but it's a possibility."

"I didn't think," Enjolras whispered, sinking down onto the sofa.

"Yeah, we'd worked that much out for ourselves," Bahorel muttered.

"So now you know the truth about things, you are going to help us work out what to do, because you aren't going anywhere until we have something sorted that might work." Combeferre glared at him until Enjolras nodded.

"Fair enough. We'd best get to work."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire in London will have to come either tonight or tomorrow, sadly I have a little thing called college calling my name right this minute.


	8. London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eponine tries to get Grantaire to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's 2:10 am. I've spent two days writing this blessed thing and have reached the conclusion that if I don't post it now, I never will. The urge to edit and edit is still there but I need sleep, and tomorrow afternoon I actually have to do homework, so I'm posting this before I get tempted to spend yet more time editing.
> 
> The larger paragraphs for Grantaire and Eponine (especially Grantaire's) were written in one go just as it came to me and are more or less unedited, so sorry for any mistakes.

"How's the picture?" Eponine asked, dropping down into the seat next to Grantiare. "Oh wow," she murmured as her question answered itself. The sketch in front of the artist was almost complete, a perfect black and white drawing of a young man, his long hair waving in the breeze. He was captured from behind, a flag on either side and hands raised, as if he were addressing the crowd gathered in the background of the picture. Eponine instantly recognised who the man was meant to be and sighed. "That's not healthy you know," she said quietly, touching his shoulder softly. His movements slowed and eventually stopped.

"True," he admitted. "I can't help it though."

"You still love him." It wasn't a question and so he didn't bother replying. "Want to talk?"

"Not particularly."

Eponine shrugged and didn't push the matter. "So what now? And we can come back tomorrow if there's anything you still want to do."

"Is that your way of hinting you're bored and would like to leave?" Grantaire smirked, standing but leaving the picture where it was. As he started to walk away Eponine quickly grabbed it, hating the idea of leaving something so incredible behind. Somehow she managed to slip it into her bag before Grantaire noticed she had it, following him as he strode through the busy rooms and left the building.

"Is the show tonight or tomorrow?" he asked once he'd checked she was still there, leaning against the wall.

"Tomorrow. Fancy just wandering for a bit? Some fresh air could do us good, and there's a market nearby that's meant to be really good."

"Lead on MacDuff," he joked, offering his arm.

"Wow. Someone's been taking gentlemen lessons," Eponine teased, making Grantaire poke her in retaliation.

"So what's the real reason behind this trip to London?" he asked conversationally, keeping his tone as light as possible. "The drinking, him, Combeferre and Bahorel sick of me... Which one?"

"They're worried, not sick of you. Your body isn't used to it these days, you can't carry on drinking this much, 'Taire."

"Actually, on second thoughts, can we have this discussion later? I'm too sober."

"You keep putting it off and putting it off. You have to talk about it eventually," she pointed out.

"Well not now," he snapped back. Stopping by the first stall they reached, he pulled away and started looking through the CDs. "Got, got, got, crap, got, got, crap, worst CD in the history of bad CDs, terrible, got, got, got." Grantaire glanced up at the stall holder. "Do you have anything by Richard Thompson?"

"Who?" was the only reply he got.

"Never mind," Grantaire sighed. Noticing the guitar leaning against the front of the stall, price tag dangling, he picked it up and strummed it experimentally. "God that's out of tune," he muttered, quickly setting to work. Once he'd got it to a stage where he was satisfied he started playing, picking songs out of his memory and mashing them randomly together. Finally deciding on a song, Grantaire played properly, humming the tune to the words as he strummed.

"What's the song called?" Eponine asked finally, smiling as she listened.

"Home," he replied softly. "It's one I wrote years ago. I think I may have even recorded it once. 'Ferre talked me into it."

"What's it go like? Will you sing it for me?" She almost hesitated as she put the request forward, voice lowering as if she knew he wouldn't be happy to agree. His playing slowed and he glanced up at her. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked," she apologised instantly.

"I can hear your voice, I can feel your loving arms around me, and if I close my eyes you do surround me, and your soul is calling me home. I can see your face, even though you left me with my drinking, I know that it's of me you will be thinking, as your soul is calling you home."

Eponine just sat there and stared as he sang, the sorrow in his voice making it even more beautiful.

"It's incredible," she whispered, emotion breaking into her voice.

"It's in the past," he muttered gruffly, putting the guitar down quickly and turning away to sit on a wall before she could see the tears that were threatening to fall, staring off blindly.

"How come I've never heard you play before?" Eponine said finally, sitting beside him.

"My guitar smashed," he said softly. "About four years ago now. The case zipped up at the bottom only I didn't realise it was unzipped when I picked it up. The guitar fell out and shattered. I decided not to replace it."

"Because you wrote songs like that."

"I had to let it out somehow."

Eponine stared at him for a moment, finally realising how Grantaire had managed to survive Enjolras leaving. None of them had known just how deeply he felt about Enjolras, though they'd all had their suspicians that it was at a dangerous level. Eponine hadn't been the only one to fear just what Grantaire would do those first few weeks, especially when he was struggling with withdrawal as well.

"So you poured your feelings into songs into of keeping them locked up inside."

"I also phoned him every single day for a fortnight, begging him to come back." Grantaire refused to look at her, talking emotionlessly as if it were the only way he could get through this conversation. "He deleted his number from my phone and deleted his e-mail address but I knew it by heart anyway. After that, when I'd had no response to anything, I decided I was just wasting my time and gave up. I wrote that song a few months later. I hated talking to people, I didn't want to see their pity. Singing was different. I could pretend I was someone else. Pretend my heart wasn't broken. Pretend my life was perfect."

"That song shows a life far from perfect, 'Taire."

Grantaire shrugged.

"That song was one on its own. It was kept secret. 'Ferre only heard it by mistake. I didn't realise he was there."

"Why didn't you talk to him about everything?" Eponine asked softly. "He could have helped. He still would."

"Because I can't." He span to face her and she was taken aback slightly by the desperation in his eyes. "I never could. The one person I can open up to is the one I have to talk about." He laughed bitterly. "God I need a drink."

"You should replace your guitar," Eponine quickly changed the subject. "You clearly loved playing."

"Can't afford. I lost my job."

"Then how come you can afford to drink?"

"Because, sweetheart, that classes as medicinal. Everyone has to forget something." Standing, he stretched. "I'll be in the pub."

Staying sat on the wall, Eponine watched him walk away, a sad look in her eyes. Turning, she studied the stall before standing and walking over.

"How much for the guitar?"

* * *

"So we still have no idea what to do," Bahorel groaned.

"That's my phone," Enjolras muttered, half-slumped on the table as he tried not to doze off. The trio had stayed up all night trying to figure out a plan and it was now 9am - a perfectly reasonable time for someone to be trying to ring. Fumbling with Combeferre's coat, Enjolras managed to locate the correct pocket and answer his mobile before it stopped ringing. "Hello? Oh, hello sir. Really? When? Okay then. Of course. Yes sir. Certainly. Goodbye." Putting the phone down, he looked up at his friends who were watching him, eyes silently demanding the second half of the conversation. "Well that just changed things," Enjolras sighed. "I think my plan shall have to be to give him time and space." Quietly, he explained the new situation to them both.

* * *

"You shouldn't have bought it."

"Well I did."

Grantaire tried to glare at Eponine but ended up squinting as she ripped the curtains open.

"I refuse to play it."

"Tough." Reaching into her bag, she pulled out his sketch from the day before and slammed it on the table in front of him. "You want to know what's also tough? I don't care if you don't want to talk, you have to. Tough love from now on, 'Taire. It will help, trust me."

Standing, he stormed over to the door and rattled the handle, spinning far faster than was wise (especially when hungover) when it wouldn't turn. Grantaire grabbed on to the table next to him to stop himself from falling, sending Eponine death glares as he did so.

"Open the fucking door," he snapped.

"No."

Noticing the key still in her hand he threw himself towards her, cursing when she jumped backwards and dropped the key inside her shirt.

"If you ever want to even consider being able to have sex again, don't even consider trying to get that back," she threatened. Grantaire was almost tempted to try anyways when he realised just how pissed off Combeferre would be if Grantaire attempted to get into his girlfriend's bra. The last thing he needed to do right then was infuriate one of his only friends.

"You want me to talk? You're a fucking bitch. How's that for talking?" he spat, picking himself up and stalking over to the nearest chair.

"A start. Now talk about Enjolras."

"He's a bastard." Grantaire shrugged. "End of story."

"No it's not." Eponine looked him in the eye until Grantaire had to glance away. "Try talking about how you feel about him."

"This won't work," Grantaire tried.

"Trust me," she reiterated firmly.

"Fine. How I feel about him? I fucking love him, happy?" Grantaire was almost shouting now. "I've loved him from the day I met him and I can't stop even though I've tried, god knows I've tried! I love him and I hate him all at the same time and it is killing me. I want him to leave and never come back but I also need him close by. I need him to love me. I wish he were dead yet I know that if he were, I would follow him without a second thought. When he left, I nearly died. I considered it. A life without him was one not worth living, or so I thought. I was ready to die. I owe Combeferre my fucking life because he made me see that life could still go on. He dragged me out of that house and made me move on. I made his life hell and yet he never gave up. He got me through uni, got me my first job, suggested that I move back in with Courf and the others when Bahorel found that house. He encouraged me to sing and to paint, to carry on with the things I used to love but which hurt too much because _he_ used to love me doing them. _He_ loved my singing so I stopped. _He_ watched me paint and draw, used to let me sketch him even when he wanted or needed to be doing something else. Combeferre saved all my stuff you know. I was going to burn them all. Every last picture. He hid them. Only told me where last year, when he felt I was sane enough to not destroy them. And then he came back." Grantaire rubbed his face tiredly. "I don't know what to do. I'm like a moth, and he's my flame. I'm a planet orbiting his sun, a Greek worshipping Apollo. It's killing me, him being so close and yet so far. I hate him for leaving yet there is a part of me that would take him back in a heartbeat because it would mean being whole again. We are two faces on a coin, two pieces of a puzzle. We fit and at the same time we are opposites." He sighed. "Okay, you're right. I need to sort my life out."

"When was the last time you spoke to anyone about feelings and him? Properly, I mean. Actually explaining how you feel."

"Never," he laughed bitterly. "Wouldn't have happened now except you got me mad."

"Anything else you need to say?"

Grantaire considered Eponine for a moment. "I don't know what to do," he admitted finally. "Love and hate, want and need... I don't know which is stronger. Actually, I do. I need him more than I want him out of my life, love is stronger than hatred, but there's a huge problem. I can't trust him. If I took him back, if he even wanted to get back with me which in itself is unlikely, but even then I would never be able to trust him not to leave again. And if I can't trust him then I can't give him everything. I can't love him fully."

"That makes sense," Eponine nodded. The pair sat in silence for a few minutes before she spoke again. "There's something else you need to consider. Right now, I don't like the guy. He's gone about all this the wrong way, coming back how he did and insisting on seeing you. He's being selfish and deserves to suffer for it. And I understand entirely why you don't trust him because I wouldn't in a thousand years. _But_. You do need to ask yourself this, because it is important. Were you ever actually happy without him? Because you've lived for five years but you've barely smiled or laughed. Actually, no, you've survived. And surviving isn't living." Leaning over, she took his hand in hers and looked him in the eye seriously. "I hate his guts but you love him and he made you happy. You seriously need to consider if accepting him back into your life would make you happy again. Also, Jehan has his suspicians that he still loves you, at least a little. He made me promise to say nothing, but you needed to know before you make a decision."

"Eponine..." Grantaire sighed again. "Dammit. I just keep coming back to the fact that I love him and I'm too damn sober for this."

"No you're not. For this decision, you have to be completely sober." She stared him down when he opened his mouth to argue.

"Fine," he muttered. Glancing at the clock, he saw his opportunity for an escape. "Isn't our show a matinee? We should be going."

* * *

"Well, thank you," Grantaire said quietly two days later, on their way back home. They'd taken up as much space on the train as they could, glaring at anyone who tried to sit at their table (though Eponine drew the line when Grantaire had jokingly suggested a joke from a Ben Elton train routine as a way to scare people off).  "I think I needed this."

"Thank Combeferre, it was his idea."

"And it was you who put up with me for five days, somehow managing not to kill me, and who helped me make a decision."

"You've made one then?" Eponine had to admit, she was curious. Sitting up straight, she stopped staring out of the window and looked at him. "Do I get to find out what?"

"I'm going to stop pushing him away." He gazed out of the window as he spoke, resting his head against it lightly. "I'm going to give him another chance as a friend. Talking to you made me realise that keeping away is killing me. Knowing he's around yet being unable to so much as see him without losing it... Well, it's no way to live. I can't change what happened, so I have to learn to live with it and move on with my life." Glancing over, he smiled at her. "So, like I said, thank you. I owe you one, 'Ponine."

"I'll remember," she teased, standing as the train pulled into their home town. "Oh look, Jehan came to meet us. Excellent, I was hoping for a lift."

"You were hoping for a lift? Who's the one with the new guitar?" Eponine didn't reply, merely smiling at him innocently.

"Grantaire, Eponine, how was London?" Jehan beamed as they disembarked.

"Good thanks," Grantaire replied, gladly dropping the heaviest bag the moment he was on the platform.

"Excellent. Right, let's get the stuff in the car. Eponine, I'll drop you off first then we can head back to ours, 'Taire. Joly and Bossuet are coming round tonight, not sure about 'Chetta but it'll be nice to see those again."

"Actually, Jehan, could you drop me somewhere else?" Grantaire interrupted quickly before he could continue rambling on.

"He needs to talk to Enjolras," Eponine inputted helpfully. "And I know you know where he lives."

"But he's not there," Jehan replied sadly. "He's in London."

Grantaire could do nothing but stare at his friend and try to take in the news that, it seemed, Enjolras had left for the second time.

"Well fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Grantaire sings. A week ago I went to a concert and heard the song Home, written by the wonderful Ian Prowse for his band Amsterdam. When I actually bought the album and listened to it properly at home, I swear to god that the song could have been written for Grantaire in this fic. It's actually scary. I love it even more now but cry every time I hear it. So yeah, while I'm saying in the fic that Grantaire wrote it, it's all the work of Mr Prowse. For those interested in what it sounds like, here's a link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qf2QNDZpeTw
> 
> (For anyone interested in the Ben Elton reference, it's part of the first live DVD in a box set we own, part of his train routine. Very funny and very rude, and I'm afraid I'm not drunk enough to start saying it here, so feel free to look it up yourself. "Things people will move (or won't move) to sit down on a train".)
> 
> Thank you yet again for all your responses. It seems crazy that so many people are taking the time to read this and also to comment, so thank you all! I love you all loads!
> 
> I'll try and update soon, but my teachers are evil and I have other stories as well.


	9. London Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire thinks Enjolras had left again and goes after him without letting anyone explain the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter. But if I try and rewrite it one more time, I will lose what little sanity I have left, so I'm just posting it as it is now. Plus it's nearly midnight and I've written it three times already in the past two days and I really need sleep. Hopefully the next chapter will be easier.

"Enjolras? Is that you?" Enjolras turned to face his old neighbour. "It _is_ you! I thought you were gone for good."

"Not me, Mrs Dodd," he replied, giving her a small smile. "You'll still have to see me occasionally I'm afraid."

"And your lovely daughter? Is she back as well?"

"No, she's not. I'm only here the one night hopefully."

"Well, welcome back." Turning, the old lady wandered back into her flat. Shaking his head slightly, Enjolras unlocked his own apartment and entered, locking the door behind him. As he sank thankfully into his comfortable armchair he pulled out his phone to change it off silent, eyebrows shooting up when he noticed how many missed calls he had, almost all from Combeferre.

"What's up?" Enjolras asked quickly when Combeferre answered his call.

"Why the hell don't you answer your phone?" Combeferre snapped, though he sounded relieved at the same time.

"Because I was driving. I turn it on silent so I don't get distracted."

"Well of course you do." The sarcasm was clear. "Tell me you're in London."

"I'm in London. 'Ferre, will you tell me what's up? You sound panicked." Enjolras could feel himself starting to panic as Combeferre spoke.

"Grantaire didn't stay still long enough for Jehan to explain that you were only in London for one night. He thinks you've gone again. Flipped out and got straight back on the train for London."

"What?!" Enjolras cried, jumping to his feet. "When?"

"Two hours ago. Hence the missed calls."

"Shit shit shit sorry." Enjolras unlocked the door again as he spoke, practically running down the hallway and out of the building. "Two hours you say? Dammit. That only gives me fifteen minutes to get there."

"I don't know how he'll be," Combeferre warned. "Eponine says he'd just decided he was ready to talk to you and try and sort your friendship out, and then this happens."

"Shit," Enjolras breathed again, terminating the call as he dived into his car and started driving.

He could feel himself starting to panic. He still wasn't sure how he felt about Grantaire, wouldn't be until he spent some time with him, but Enjolras knew he wanted him in his life somehow. Yet he just carried on messing up.

"Way to fuck things up again," he muttered to himself angrily, trying to think of what he would say if he managed to find Grantaire. By the time he was parking outside Euston (having broken pretty much every traffic law on the way there) he still had no clue. That didn't stop him though.

The station was one he remembered well, having taking this journey many times with his parents as a child, and he was soon on the platform, waiting impatiently for the train to pull in. As soon as it had done he was off, pushing his way through the crowds to search by every door, shouting "Grantaire!" as he went. Finally, he got the reaction he wanted. He'd barely finished shouting for the fifth time when he caught sight of the curly hair he was searching for, the man it belonged to stopping and turning when he heard his name. "Grantaire, wait!" he cried then, moving even faster. Grantaire didn't try to run, just stood there watching him with a look on his face which Enjolras couldn't figure out.

"Grantaire," he said again once he'd reached him, sighing with relief.

"Why did you leave again?" Grantaire demanded instantly, eyes searching his face for an answer.

"I didn't," Enjolras started but Grantaire interrupted.

"You only just came back, why the hell would you leave so quickly? Do you hate us so much? Is this just some way to torture us a bit more?"

"Grantaire," Enjolras said firmly, cutting in and grabbing his shoulders, just stopping himself from shaking the man. "I'm not leaving. I'm only here over night. I'm attending some meetings in the morning for Hacker then going home. And before you ask, home isn't here. Home is the town where I grew up and met you guys, okay?"

"So you're not leaving?" Grantaire asked slowly, allowing a look of wild hope to enter his eyes.

"I'm not leaving," Enjolras repeated.

"Well thank fuck for that," he laughed quietly. "Way to overreact, R."

"After last time, it's understandable," Enjolras said softly, glancing up at the clock. "Come on, it's after seven and I'm guessing you won't have eaten. My treat. We can go anywhere you want." He paused. "That is, if you want. If you want to go straight back home, then I understand completely."

"I'll stay. We need to talk anyway, and we can't do that in different towns. However, I'm walking out of the door at the first comment on my drinking. I had enough of that last time."

"The subject won't be touched upon," Enjolras promised.

"In which case, I'll take you up on that offer."

* * *

Not commenting on his drinking was harder than he'd though, Enjolras decided while they were waiting for their meals to arrive. It was just as painful now to watch Grantaire killing himself slowly as it had been five years previous, and it was this fact which made him start talking, before he said something he'd regret.

"So how was your trip? Combeferre mentioned a convention of some sort?"

"Yeah, an art and design one. It was pretty cool," Grantaire shrugged. "Eponine let me drag her round that for a couple of days, but she made me do some shopping as well. American Idiot is also the only musical I think I will ever admit to having seen. In fact, I'd gladly go see it again."

"Is that your way of dropping hints?" the blonde teased, laughing when Grantaire blushed. It was so easy to fall back into the old routine of chatting with him, Enjolras decided. Too easy in fact. He could feel the small smile he wore growing whenever Grantaire laughed or smiled back at him, both also leaving a warm fuzzy feeling somewhere inside. Spending time just relaxing with Grantaire, Enjolras could forget that the past five years had even taken place. It was there, slipping back into the familiar pattern of a past life, that he realised he knew exactly how he felt about the other man.

"So us," Grantaire said finally, and Enjolras lost the smile instantly.

"Us," he repeated. "It's up to you. If you want me gone or hate me or anything like that, then I understand perfectly."

"What do you want?" Grantaire asked after a moment. "In a perfect world, what would you want to happen?"

"Is it crazy that I don't want to lose you?" Enjolras asked quietly, not quite meeting Grantaire's eyes. "Even though it was me who left you, and I've barely seen you these past few weeks, I still don't want to lose you again. Because if I'm being honest, I shouldn't have left in the first place, and now I've got you back I'm being selfish. I cut off all contact with everyone because even the slightest thought of you made me want to come back. I left because I was scared of you ending things and me having to be near you every day, still loving you yet not being with you. And yes I know that it's crazy that I left you because I was scared of you leaving me, but it made sense to me at the time. Being away from you entirely seemed the better option but it wasn't. Still isn't. But if you want me to go, if you never want to see me again, then I will leave."

"Don't," Grantaire said immediately, hand flying out to grab Enjolras's wrist, as if to stop him. "I don't want you to go." His eyes bore into the other man's. "But you need to know how I feel. I hated you. Still do, just not as much. And at the same time, I loved you. Always have. And I understand that things are different now, that you have Alana in your life and that obviously she is going to be the most important thing for you, and that that fact is going to influence decisions you make, like whether to stay or go. So while it would be healthy and sensible to tell you to leave now and never come back before I get attached again, I'm not going to. Because if I can just have you in my life, as a friend say, then I'll be happy." He smiled slightly. "You aren't the only selfish one."

"Then I'll stay," Enjolras promised. "Though next time I have to come down to London, do you promise not to panic and freak out?"

"Maybe," Grantaire smiled.

"'Taire..." Enjolras sighed and reached over to take his hand. "I know I've said this before and that the words don't mean much themselves, but I really am sorry."

"I know," Grantaire said simply. "And I may forgive you fully one day." Pulling back, he finished off his beer. "Now tell me more about your job. It seems weird to have been in a room with you for so long without you talking politics at me."

* * *

**Enjolras:** _I found him. Sorry for not texting earlier, was busy._

**Combeferre:** _How is he?_

**Enjolras:** _Okay now he knows I've not abandoned him again. I think we're okay._

**Combeferre:** _Seriously?_

**Enjolras:** _He made me promise to stay. And said he may even forgive me at some point._

**Combeferre:** _Wow._

**Enjolras:** _I know, I could barely believe it myself._

**Combeferre:** _Where is he now?_

**Enjolras:** _My sofa. He's coming back with me tomorrow afternoon._

**Combeferre:** _Marvellous, I'm really happy for you both. Now you two love birds go kiss and make up, and stop distracting my boyfriend, okay?_

The next text came through almost instantly.

**Combeferre:** _Sorry, Eponine captured my phone. I'll talk to you tomorrow or Sunday, okay?_

**Enjolras:** _Have a nice night and see you then._

Enjolras laughed quietly as he put his phone away, heading over to the bedroom door to check on Grantaire. The artist was sprawled across the sofa, one arm trailing down onto the floor as he snored. Smiling softly he shut the door again and flopped onto the bed, not bothering to undress. It had been a long day and he was shattered. But Grantaire was speaking to him again, was possibly on the road to forgiving him, and Enjolras was starting to realise that he still loved him.

All in all, it had been a good day.


	10. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras jumps to the wrong conclusion and Combeferre is a good listener.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned to have this posted a few days ago, so slight apology. I blame girl guiding and their training days.
> 
> The last part of this chapter ran away from me slightly. I knew how I was starting it and I have no idea where the stuff included in it came from, but ah well. Hopefully they aren't too OOC.

"'Taire, wake up."

The dark-haired man grumbled something and buried further into the sofa, clearly still fast asleep. Enjolras was about to shake his shoulder when he moved again, rolling over slightly. Grantaire's arm fell off the sofa, fingers trailing along the carpet, the scars on his wrists suddenly startlingly clear for Enjolras to see. The blonde drew in a deep breath, crouching and brushing his thumb gently over the marks, wondering how old they were and the story and meaning behind them. "Oh 'Taire," he whispered softly, wishing he could go back and change the way things were, anything to try and prevent his friend from hurting. Sighing, he rocked back onto his heels, watching the other man for a moment before speaking again.

"Grantaire, you need to wake up."

A snore was his only reply, and Enjolras rolled his eyes, wondering if anything was going to wake the older man. He glanced over at the clock. If he didn't leave in ten minutes, the meeting was going to be missed, but he didn't want to just go without a goodbye, even though he'd be back within a couple of hours.

"'Taire, will you please wake up!"

"Wha'?" Grantaire mumbled, falling off the sofa as he woke, Enjolras's impatient tone finally doing the trick. He blinked blearily up at the blonde. "Wha' time is it?"

"Seven, but I didn't want to just leave." Enjolras hesitated, almost mentioning the scars but deciding instead to stick on a safer topic until Grantaire was fully awake. "There's coffee in the cupboard next to the kettle but I doubt there's actually food there right now. If you're hungry, there's money in the cup on the windowsill, keys by the door, a decent shop just round the corner and remember the flat is number five, second floor."

Grantaire was still processing the first thing Enjolras had told him.

" _Seven_?! You woke me up at seven freaking a.m.?"

"Yes, because I have to leave but I didn't want you waking up alone," Enjolras repeated patiently.

"...Oh. Okay. Uh, thanks. I guess." Grantaire frowned, now working his way through the rest of what Enjolras had said. "I thought it was normally me who forgot food."

"It is, but it's not like I've been living here recently. I only kept the flat because I'd need somewhere to live whenever Hacker is in London."

"How long are we staying here this time?"

"Only until this afternoon."

Grantaire nodded. "Great. I'll grab us something for lunch as well." Sitting up, he pulled the blanket around his shoulders and leant back against the sofa. Enjolras's eyes flickered up at the clock again.

"I'm going to be late, but I'll be back in a few hours."

"I'll be here."

* * *

The meeting had been one of the more boring Enjolras had had to sit through, and he was most relieved to escape and make his way back to the flat. The moment he entered the flat he'd started talking Grantaire into leaving immediately, pointing out that their lunch would work just as well as a picnic.

"It's a lovely day and it'll be nicer eating out in the countryside somewhere than in this tiny flat. Come on 'Taire," he pleaded, and Grantaire finally gave in.

"Fine, but we'd best wrap up. It's not exactly warm." He huffed slightly when Enjolras grinned, trying to stop from smiling himself. "It's only March after all. And I hate picnics."

"It's been five years since I had a picnic," Enjolras admitted. "I think I took Charlie on one once, but that didn't exactly end well."

"Have you ever had a relationship without arguments?" Grantaire asked as he gathered up hoodies, coats and blankets.

"Considering I've only had two relationships, no." Enjolras headed between the kitchen and living room as he collected all the food and drink they would need. "Ready?"

"I guess so. If it starts snowing-"

"-then we'll just move back into the car," Enjolras interrupted firmly. "It won't be the end of the world."

* * *

"Okay, maybe this was a good idea after all," Grantaire admitted two hours later, after pushing his sleeves up and leaning back onto his elbows, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back so as to catch the sun.

"Told you," Enjolras laughed, stealing the biscuits from Grantaire's plate while he was distracted. His mood darkened as he caught sight of the newly revealed scars again. "Grantaire," he said quietly, sighing. "Care to explain the scars?"

Grantaire sat up instantly, staring at his friend with panic clear in his eyes.

"It's not what you think!" he blurted out quickly, pulling his shirt sleeves back down to cover them. Enjolras said nothing, simply looked at Grantaire with a sad disappointment clear in his face. "I never cut myself. Well, this one was a cut, but that was sort of an accident and I wasn't the one holding the knife." He traced a finger over the finest scar. "The rest... Well, they're scars, but not the type you're thinking of. I bake. I do all the baking for Courf at the cafe. And, well, I've kinda burnt myself a few times. Oven shelves bloody hurt, I can tell you that." Grantaire rubbed at his forearms absentmindedly as he spoke. "It was embarrassing after every time. People would see the bandages and stare, or treat you as if you were made of glass and were going to shatter at any moment. The scars only made it worse if they saw you again, and the blessed things never fade. I swear burns are even more obvious than actual bloody cuts. Means I have to wear long sleeves, even in summer, but doesn't affect much else thankfully." He paused and met Enjolras's eyes for the first time since he started speaking. The strength of the relief he saw there shocked him.

Enjolras slowly reached out and took Grantaire's hand in his own, pulling it towards him and turning it so his palm faced upwards. Just as slowly he traced each scar with his thumb, Grantaire having to work hard to stop himself from gasping.

"Thank god," Enjolras breathed finally. "I was scared..." His voice trailed off. "We should get going," he decided, dropping Grantaire's arm and standing quickly. "Otherwise it'll be dark long before we get home."

* * *

Combeferre opened the door almost reluctantly, dreading who he might see there. After the past week he'd been hopeful that Enjolras and Grantaire could manage to maybe become friends again, but with the knock at the same time as always he couldn't help but worry that their plan had failed.

"Enjolras," he greeted, eyebrows rising slightly when he saw the blonde haired man standing in the place of the expected dark haired one. "I wasn't expecting to see you here tonight."

"I wasn't expecting to come," the other man shrugged. "Is Eponine here? If so, then I don't mind leaving and coming back another time."

"She's not." Combeferre held the door wider open. "Come on in, I'll put the kettle on. Unless you want something stronger that is?"

Enjolras shook his head. "I don't drink."

"Tea it is then." Combeferre waited till they were both sat in his lounge before asking, "So what's wrong?"

"I saw the scars," he said quietly, staring down into his cup.

"Ah." Combeferre wasn't sure what else to say, and was slightly pleased when Enjolras started speaking again.

"God, I was so damn _scared_! I honestly thought that he'd tried to kill himself. And there were so many!"

Leaning over, Combeferre patted his arm lightly, unsure what else to do. "I take it he explained things."

"Yeah," he nodded. "But that's no longer the problem. Right this minute, that's not the thing scaring me."

"What is then?"

There was a moment's silence while Enjolras built up the nerve to speak.

"'Ferre, I think I still love him."

"Well, you were in love with him before," Combeferre pointed out sensibly. "Is it really such a shock that you're still in love with him?"

"Yes. No. I don't know!" Placing the cup down, he rested his head in his hands. "Honestly? It's fucking terrifying me. I made myself move on and get over him, and all it takes is one look at him and I'm like a lovestruck teenager again. I can't stop thinking about him."

"Is that really so bad?"

"Combeferre, I can't tell him." Combeferre said nothing, instead raising one eyebrow and waiting for an explanation. "It's so easy to fall back into the way things used to be. It's easy to relax and hang out with him and I feel like nothing ever changed and I never left. But then one of us is reminded of what happened and all that flies away in a heartbeat. No matter what, me leaving is always going to be between us. He said he hated and loved me at the same time. He also said he wants me in his life as a friend."

"Is that enough?"

"I don't know," Enjolras admitted honestly. "But I think it has to be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could be a few days until the next update, got a busy week coming up and I really should set to updating other stuff as well at some point.


	11. Time Keeps Passing - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few things that happen in the next two months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first of all, I must apologise for the gap between the last chapter and this. Last week the worst thing that could happen to a writer happened - my laptop broke. As it's still not fixed, I've had to write this on my boss's crappy netbook then sneak my mum's laptop to post it. Hopefully my laptop will be fixed soon, at which point updates to everything should speed up again (fingers crossed).
> 
> Secondly, this was meant to be fluffy all the way through, but I fail at fluff so you'll have to make do with this I'm afraid.
> 
> Finally, as I wrote each section separately, this ended up a heck of a lot longer than expected. Like, about three times as long as my normal chapters. So it's been split in two to make it feel less like reading War and Peace.

Courfeyrac read over the tender again as he waited for Grantaire.

"These questions are bloody stupid," he complained to Combeferre, who had stopped to read the sheets over his shoulder on his way through the cafe. "All they're doing is asking the same thing over and over again."

"Well they are aimed at people who haven't been running the Shed for the past eighteen months," Combeferre pointed out, using their (occasionally) affectionate nickname for the fifty year old cafe situated in the middle of the town's park. "Of course your answers will be different, you know everything there is to know about the place and already have staff who are qualified to work there. Other people applying may not."

"It's a shithole," the cafe owner said bluntly. "The only way to make the blessed thing make money is to knock it down and start again, only the council will never agree to that and are too stupid to listen when I tried to explain why it won't make as much money as they want it to."

"This time last year you wanted rid of it," Combeferre reminded him.

"Yes, but if someone else takes it on then it's competition. Besides, it's bad form if I don't apply, what with me owning this place and all that. The council are very big on local business."

"You'll lose money again," he warned absentmindedly, watching Grantaire rush in. "I wonder what's happened." His question was answered when Grantaire dropped into the chair next to Courfeyrac, bag abandoned on the floor.

"Sorry I'm late, I hit traffic on my way over," he gasped, taking deep breaths to try and replace the oxygen he'd used up in his mad dash. "You said it was urgent?"

"I need you to redesign the Castle Grounds cafe."

Grantaire stared at him in shock, not checking the papers Courfeyrac had just slid over to him.

"Are you fucking insane?" he demanded loudly, making both other men thankful there were currently no other customers in the cafe. "Jesus Courf, I'm an artist, not an architect!"

"You know the place and you know what people want. You're good at talking to people. Look, all I need for now is your agreement. Then, once it's open again next week (and God knows they need to get more organised with when they put their businesses up for tender, because a week before it reopens for summer is just a terriible idea) and we hopefully have customers, you can drink as much coffee as you like whilst chatting to said customers about what they'd like to have. Then it can be redesigned next winter. And no, I can't knock it down and start again. I just need to be able to tell the council I have some sort of future plan for the place." Courfeyrac paused finally, noticing the panicked look in Grantaire's eyes. "Of course you will be payed for all hours spent doing this, and you will have my undying gratitude."

"This will go badly wrong," the artist groaned, rubbing at his face tiredly.

"At least make a plan. What's the worst that could happen? Look at it this way, at least it's a wage." Grantaire glared at Combeferre before swapping his attention back to Courfeyrac as he spoke.

"If you get a job, you don't have to carry on with this. You'd be busy enough then."

"Courf, I don't want to fuck up your cafe..."

"And you won't. I have faith in you. Now, what do you want to drink? And no I will not serve you alcohol at 10am. I quite like having my license thank you very much."

* * *

"Enjolras stood in the playground awkwardly, trying to ignore the glances thrown his way by all the mothers standing nearby. He'd already worked out which were single from the way they'd sneaked closer and stared more openly, checking out whether he was wearing a ring then talking louder in the hopes he'd join in the conversation. Noticing the woman approaching, he sighed and pulled his phone out, hoping she'd take the hint.

She didn't.

"Hi!" she greeted him cheerily, giving him a flirty smile. "I don't believe I've seen you here before."

"That's because I haven't been here before," he said bluntly, turning back to his phone.

"I'm Rebekah, but you can call me Bex. Mike's mum." She waited patiently until he finally sighed again and glanced up, realising she wasn't going to give in.

"Enjolras," he offered up reluctantly. "My daughter's Alana."

"That explains everything. You only moved into town a couple of months ago, right?" He nodded, wondering if it'd work if he thought _go away_ hard enough. "Well if you need any help finding your way round town or anything, just let me know. I'd be more than willing to give you a hand."

The bark of laughter made them both jump.

"He lived in this town while in university and only lived twenty miles outside it when a child, Becca, I hardly think he needs your help," Grantaire pointed out as he joined the pair, still trying not to laugh. "The town hasn't changed that much in the past five years."

"Oh." The look of disappointment on her face was far too strong for someone who'd only just met Enjolras. "Well, I'll see you round then. You too, Grantaire." And with that she backed away to join the other parents.

"You are possibly the most exciting thing to happen to this nursery for the parents in the past ten years," Grantaire teased, laughing at the blush now covering Enjolras's face. "Loving the text by the way. Did you just ask me to save you, or should I be expecting Combeferre or Courf or someone to ride up to be your knight in shining armour as well?"

"Oh shut up," Enjolras mumbled.

"I'm hurt - and after I saved you from attack by a pack of ravenous mothers as well. Because I should warn you, those four over there were getting ready to pounce. You don't get so many single young men showing up in this town." _Especially not with your looks_ , he added silently.

Just then, the nursery door opened and all the mothers surged forwards to pick up their children, many stopping for a quick chat to the teacher on the way. Enjolras hung back with Grantaire until the mass had mostly dispursed, only then daring to approach the building. Grantaire followed, not giving up on the teasing, but backed away again when the teacher started talking to Enjolras.

"Ah, you must be Alana's father. You look just like her." The teacher smiled at Enjolras kindly as she turned and called for the girl. "I'm Miss Robson, she'll be in my class next year as well if you keep her at the school."

"That was the plan," he confirmed. "I'm hoping to be able to stay in town until she's finished school - well, at least primary. Easier on her then."

"I'll bet your fiance won't want to be moving around too much either." The sentence was very matter of fact and took Enjolras completely by surprise.

"Fiance?" he said dumbly, not noticing the look of complete horror present on Grantaire's face.

"Cosette. You mean you two aren't...?" She trailed off when Enjolras slowly shook his head. "Oh. I'm... really sorry, I honestly thought, what with Cosette picking Alana up every evening and dropping her off every morning, and the engagement ring, and how Alana and Cosette really do look similar... " She sighed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

"It's fine, forget it." Enjolras smiled slightly. "Cosette is just a good friend, who's engaged to another friend of mine. She offered to bring Allie to nursery and back because of my work hours. It's an easy mistake to make."

"She had me scared for a moment," Grantaire sighed once they were leaving the playground, Alana swinging on Enjolras's arm and babbling away about her day.

"What, you actually thought I was engaged?" Enjolras laughed. "Hell no. I'm not the marriage type. Well, maybe with the right person, but even then I'd have to be sure." He glanced over at his friend, taking in the relief in his eyes. "Seriously, 'Taire, I thought you knew me better than that! If I were engaged, I wouldn't have kept it quiet from all of you. Hell, you'd be best man."

"I gotta go," Grantaire mumbled, leaving then without saying goodbye. Enjolras stared after him and sighed.

"One day I will manage not to screw up when talking to him," he muttered.

"Daddy, can we please go to the park now?" Alana repeated louder, tugging on his arm.

"Course we can sweetie." Picking her up, he hugged his daughter to him tightly as he walked the last two streets to the local park, trying to forget the look that had flashed across Grantaire's face at his last comment - a look of complete despair that threatened to drag Enjolras down with it.

* * *

"Aw shit!" Grantaire groaned when it started raining heavily, getting soaked within seconds. "I fucking hate the weather in this town," he muttered darkly, hating the sun which had made him choose against a jacket that morning. He ran as fast as he could towards the nearest coffee shop, shaking his head like a dog once inside, not caring that the rain scattering from his hair was hitting customers all around him.

"And I'll have an Americano with hazelnut syrup to go with the Mocha," he heard a familiar voice say, looking over at the counter to see Enjolras standing there, paying for his drinks. "That is, if you still drink that." Moments later, it clicked that the blonde was talking to him and Grantaire nodded dumbly in reply. "That's everything then." Setting the drinks down on a free table, Enjolras smirked at his friend. "Wow, can that t-shirt actually stick to you any more than it currently is doing? You're giving all the women in here a show." Grantaire blushed and grinned, but didn't argue when Enjolras shrugged off his coat and held it out, pulling it on silently.

"Thanks," he mumbled, dropping down into a chair.

"So how've you been? I haven't seen you since that day at the nursery. Speaking of which, I meant that thing about you being my best man as you being on of my best friends, not in whichever way you took it."

"Just forget about it, okay? I overreacted, no big deal." Grantaire shrugged. "End of."

"Okay then. So... how have you been?"

"Good. Helping Courf with his plans for the Shed - that's his second small cafe by the way - and trying to find a new job. How's work?"

"Great! Hacker's getting me to help him with the speech writing for stuff, and I'm being allowed to sit in on all meetings and the like, and-" Grantaire smiled and leant back as Enjolras carried on enthusing about his job, simply enjoying listening to the passion in his voice.

"Sounds like you're really enjoying it," he commented when Enjolras paused for breath.

"Yeah," laughed Enjolras quietly. "Sorry, didn't mean to go on like that."

"It's fine, I don't mind. So what's happening that I should be aware of politics wise? Because you've been home well over two months now and I still haven't heard a single speech from you about how the people running the country need to be stopped for some reason or another."

"Gay marriage," his friend said firmly, voice taking on the tone Grantaire loved as he continued speaking. "The fact that anyone could oppose it is wrong, and the fact that the new pope is so bigotted as to say it is the machinations of the devil? Bloody ridiculous! Someone has to stand up against him and this before it goes too far. The Queen says she is for this, but last time she was against it and publically so."

"Sirs, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to quieten down."

The pair blinked in surprise at the interruption, looking up at the barista.

"Of course. Sorry," Grantaire apologised when it became obvious that Enjolras wasn't going to. Glancing at each other, they couldn't help but burst out laughing as he walked away.

"I feel like a teenager again," Enjolras gasped, grinning widely. "It's been years since I got told off for being too noisy in a cafe or public place."

"It was never quite the same without you," Grantaire informed him. "We got told off for indecent public behaviour, not for making radical political speeches standing on the tables inciting the other customers to revolution."

"It was fun back then," the blonde admitted, a wistful look crossing his face. Just then, his phone buzzed and he pulled it out, sighing as he read the text. "And that's my cue to leave. Work calls, sadly."

"I'll see you around then."

"Yeah. I'll text you, okay?"

"Great." Grantaire managed to wait until Enjolras had left before breaking out into a grin. It wasn't a date as such, but it was close enough for him.

* * *

"Is there a reason why my living room has become a dress shop?" Enjolras asked as he entered the room and looked round at the dresses and fabrics on every surface, clearly amused.

"Daddy!" Alana squealed, pulling away from Musichetta to throw herself into her father's arms, Musichetta clucking disapprovingly as Enjolras scooped her up. "Look at my dress!"

"Gorgeous," he smiled, kissing her hair.

"Crease that and you can explain to Cosette why the father of her flower girl is dead or maimed," Musichetta threatened idly, taking Alana from him and placing her back on the stool in the centre of the room. "Now stay still miss, unless you want to be stabbed by a pin again," she warned.  Enjolras moved over to sit in front of her, holding her hands to effectively stop the four-year-old from fidgeting.

"You still haven't answered my question," Enjolras said after a few minutes of silence.

"Courfeyrac threw us out of Cosette's. Something about us not being allowed to know his plans for the stag night. We decided we didn't want to know and left willingly. Also we didn't know long we'd be until we were finished, and here we can just put Alana to bed when it's time."

"Plus watching the football at home for the next few hours seemed unbearable," Cosette commented as she swept into the lounge. "So. How do I look?"

"Wow," Enjolras murmured, looking her up and down. "It's amazing. You look beautiful - Marius is a very lucky man."

"And doesn't he know it," Musichetta laughed, poking Enjolras until he stood and moved out of her way. "It doesn't look like much needs changing - how does it feel?"

"Perfect," the blonde beamed, eyes sparkling with excitement for the date drawing ever nearer. As Musichetta made one final adjustment before helping Alana out of her dress, Enjolras grinned back at Cosette and grabbed her hands, impulsively spinning her round in a circle in time to the song starting on the radio. She threw her head back and laughed, keeping tight hold so she couldn't fall.

"Well someone's happy," Grantaire said softly from the doorway, watching them with an almost sad smile on his lips. "Courf says to tell you you're free to go home now."

"And you decided to come instead of ringing," Cosette said knowingly, only just stopping her eyes from flicking to Enjolras.

"I have to see the dressmaker. Apparently my suit has to fit perfectly, or else."

"Well he's right." Cosette kissed Grantaire's cheek on her way back out of the room to change back into her normal jeans and t-shirt, Alana trailing behind.

"So, uh, thanks for the coffee last week," Grantaire said finally, managing to meet Enjolras's eyes. "It was nice to be able to just relax and chat."

"Anytime," Enjolras replied, smiling at him. "Tell you what, want to meet up again this coming week? A break from everything could be good." He felt his smile widen as Grantaire's eyes lit up slightly, though the other man did his best to be neutral about it.

"Yeah, sure."

"Monday afternoon?"

"It's a date." Grantaire's eyes widened suddenly when he realised what he's said and the artist quickly tried to backtrack. "I mean, not a date date, obviously, I just meant that  that sounds like a perfect time and oh look Musichetta wants me to try my suit on I'll see you on Monday then!" The dark-haired man shot past Enjolras to where Musichetta was chuckling quietly at them both in the corner, cheeks burning furiously. Enjolras watched him for a moment until Grantaire started to strip.

Enjolras couldn't remember the last time he'd left a room so fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for actually continuing to read this and especially to those who comment - it means so much!


	12. Time Keeps Passing - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The immediate follow-up of the last chapter - the main events of the following two months as drabbles again.

The next two months seemed to pass surprisingly quickly. Only Courfeyrac, big kid that he was, seemed pleased with the constant snow in spring, and Grantaire and Enjolras found themselves meeting up for coffee more and more often. It soon turned into a biweekly routine, the pair choosing a different cafe each time for their discussions, the topics of which could range from work to politics (which was practically the same thing) to music to TV to simply gossiping about their friends. Enjolras was proud of the fact that he'd only had to cancel one of their meetings twice due to work, though sometimes other aspects of his life suffered from his rescheduling.

The sunny saturday in late April was the first time his free time with his daughter was cut into though.

"But you promised!" Alana's face screwed up as she started pretending to cry, desperately wanting her own way.

"I know sweetheart, but I need a job and that means I have to work these hours. I'll take you to the park tomorrow instead, I promise."

"Tell you what kiddo, I'll take you today. How's that sound?"

Enjolras turned to see Grantaire standing in the doorway, smiling over at them.

"You don't have to do that," he said quickly.

"But I want to," Grantaire shrugged. "It's been years since I took kids to the park, Gavroche got too old sadly."

"Grantaire..." Enjolras's voice trailed off and he sighed. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "I owe you one."

"I'll add it to the list," Grantaire laughed, holding out his arms as Alana ran over to be picked up. "Come on missy, let's find you your shoes and coat." Reaching the doorway, he turned back to look at Enjolras. "How long are you working for?" he asked, ignoring Alana's pleas for him to hurry up.

"Until four."

"In which case, you're in charge of dinner. We'll be home for five." With a wink, Grantaire left the room quickly, leaving Enjolras sat at the table smiling stupidly to himself before realising, shaking his head to try and clear it, and running round like a mad man to be ready for work in time.

That afternoon....

"Mmm, smells good."

"I hope you're not expecting anything too fancy," Enjolras warned as he looked over at where Grantaire was leaning in the doorway. "I'm no cook."

"Bahorel's the expert in a kitchen," Grantaire said absentmindedly, wandering over to check the pan. "And you say you can't cook? This spag bol looks better than mine ever does."

"I'll let you into a secret - it comes out of a jar." Their laughter filled the kitchen as Grantaire put the lid back down and turned to face Enjolras. "How was Allie? Did she behave?"

"Perfectly." The dark-haired man smiled. "As always."

"Clearly just me then," Enjolras mock-grumbled, poking at Grantaire's arm. "Shift, I need to check the food. That is, if you want feeding." Grantaire leaped to one side instantly.

"I'll leave you to it. I should probably check on Allie anyways, I left her watching Sonic the Hedgehog."

"I didn't even know they still showed all these old shows - we grew up on those."

"Well they're better than the crap they make these days." Grantaire escaped the kitchen quickly before Enjolras could say a word about his language. Shaking his head, the blonde carried on cooking, making a mental note to lecture Grantaire later. The last thing he wanted was a four year old with a potty mouth.

"Tea!" he yelled five minutes later, jumping out of the way as Alana came charging in, followed closely by Grantaire.

"Looking good Cookey," Grantaire grinned cheekly.

"And for that you can wash up later."

"Who do you think I am, some sort of slave boy?"

"You offering?"

"You two really are just like an old married couple," came an amused voice from behind them. Combeferre and Bahorel entered the room properly as they turned, Bahorel smirking at them both.

"Oh shut up 'Ferre," Grantaire mumbled, but both had turned red and were studiously avoiding looking at the other.

"Why've you come round?" Enjolras asked, sorting Alana at the table whilst he spoke for something to do.

"Grantaire was meant to be meeting us tonight, but I'm guessing he got distracted." Bahorel's voice spoke volumes about how he thought the artist had been distracted.

"Mind out of the gutter, Bahorel, nothing like that at all." Grantaire quickly explained the day to their friends. "I completely forgot I was meeting you guys, I'm so sorry. I'll just grab my coat."

"Eat first," Combeferre interrupted, one hand stopping Grantaire from leaving the room. "We'll be at mine. If you decide to join us, head round later. If not, text and let us know." His smile at the pair turned evil when Grantaire nodded. "Enjoy your evening."

"I hate our friends sometimes," Enjolras muttered, running a hand through his hair as he dropped into his chair.

"They're only teasing," Grantaire said softly, but he still wouldn't meet Enjolras's eye. It had been five months since Enjolras's return and neither man had made any attempt to change their relationship from the comfortable friendship it currently rested in - mostly in fear that the other had moved on and they would simply make things awkward between them.

The rest of the meal passed in a silence which was only broken by Alana chattering away at them both. Enjolras scooped Alana up as soon as they'd finished, saying, "Come on miss, bathtime." He glanced over at Grantaire. "I'll be back in thirty," he promised, and added, "Feel free to watch TV if you want, or whatever," before leaving the room quickly. Sighing, Grantaire resisted the urge to bang his head against the table.

"Way to fuck things up guys," he mumbled as he slowly dragged himself over to the sink and started washing the pots and dishes.

Re-entering the kitchen, Enjolras watched him for a few minutes before speaking.

"You know, I was joking earlier."

"I know. I wanted to help though. Besides, stopped me feeling like a spare part while you looked after Allie." Grantaire finally dared to look up at Enjolras and almost dropped the plate he was holding when he realised how close the other man was now standing.

"You are never a spare part," Enjolras whispered, taking the plate from him and putting it away. Enjolras sighed when he saw how Grantaire's eyes had dropped again and, placing a finger under his chin, he pulled his head back up to meet his eyes, studying them for a moment. Grantaire stared back, emotions he could no longer hide showing plain. Just as Enjolras smiled and started to lower his head to kiss him, Grantaire pulled backwards, turning his head as he headed for the door. As such he completely missed Enjolras's move and only saw the shocked expression on the blonde's face when Grantaire span to face him again. The look made his stomach sink even more.

"I should go," he mumbled, dropping his gaze to the floor once again. "'Ferre and Bahorel are expecting me." Enjolras opened his mouth to speak then sighed and closed it again.

"Okay," he said quietly. "I'll see you round I guess."

"See you later."

Once Grantaire had left and Enjolras heard the front door close he sighed again, making his way over to the table and sitting down, resting his head on his arms. "Well fuck," he groaned. The night had definitely not gone the way he'd planned.

* * *

Enjolras shifted his weight from foot to foot as he waited for someone to open the door. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this nervous - bar seeing Grantaire again - and he quickly glanced down at Alana. His daughter was watching the house avidly, curious as to whom she was going to meet.

"Enjolras!" the woman who opened the door gasped, throwing her arms around him instantly. He stood there immobile for a moment before stiffly returning the hug. "Oh Enjolras, why didn't you say you were home? It's been too long sweetheart!"

"Hello mother," Enjolras muttered, pulling away quickly.

"How long have you been back for? How come you're back? Have you finally moved back for good? What are you doing these da- Oh. Hello down there." Impatient from being ignored, Alana had reached forwards and tugged at her grandmother's skirt in the hope of getting attention. She beamed when it worked.

"Allie, no," Enjolras hissed, pulling her back. "Sorry mother, she normally has more manners than this."

"It's fine," his mother, Denise, waved her hand at him as she bent slightly to look closer at Alana. "Well I'd ask who you are but that's sort of obvious. She has your hair and eyes, Enjy. So what're you called?"

"Alana."

"Oh what a beautiful name." Denise straightened up and fixed her son with a beady eye. "You'd better come inside and start answering my questions, mister. Because I can tell you straight away that I was too young to become a grandmother when this little one was born."

Once they were seated on a sofa with drinks and Alana was watching TV, Enjolras started answering the multitude of questions his mother had thrown at him since he first arrived.

"I've been back in town for just over four months now, and I'm back because of my new job. I'm working for Hacker, the MP for this area. He's unlikely to be voted out, so yes, I'm pretty much back for good. And I didn't say I was back before now because the last time I saw father, he told me to never darken his door again. Did he tell you that?"

"No," she sighed. "But then he never would give me the details about any of your arguments. How old is Alana then?"

"And here we go again. Changing the subject whenever you aren't happy with the conversation. You never could face up to how much of a complete and utter ba-" He froze, glancing over at Alana before changing his words carefully, glad she was so totally engrossed in the program she was watching. "How much of a jerk he really is, or how much he truly hated me. He never wanted kids and pointed that out to me every single freaking day I lived in this house. Once he'd finally got used to the fact he was stuck with me, he wasn't happy with who I was. He wanted me to be a clone of him and I'm not, good god I never will be. I'd rather die and he hated me for that fact as well." Enjolras jumped up and turned away from his mother, running a hand through his hair angrily. "And then you wonder why I left originally, why I never visited whilst at university, why I never told you I left town for good. You shouldn't have spent months harassing Combeferre for my number or address - if I had still been in touch with him, then why did it take you so long to work out he wasn't going to tell you? You're pathetic, do you know that?" he spat out, spinning to face her again. "You let him walk all over you and your beliefs instead of standing up to him. Well I'm not like that. I left because I was scared of turning out like you. I came today simply to tell you that you are a grandmother, nothing more. So congratulations." Walking over to Alana, he picked her up and headed for the door, turning back only to say, "And she's four, and no I don't care that twenty-two was too young to have a child. Good day mother."

With that, he left the house, not looking back.

"Who was that, daddy?" Alana asked as Enjolras buckled her into the car, fastidiously ignoring the house behind him.

"Your grandma, Allie. My mother."

"Why aren't we staying? Doesn't she like us?"

"She does, but we need to get home."

"Will we see her again?"

He hesiated this time.

"Maybe," he settled for. As he climbed into the driver's seat he sighed and rested his forehead against the wheel before pulling out his phone and sending out a quick text.

Back in his flat, Combeferre looked up from his book as his phone beeped, and reached over to read the text.

**Enjolras:** _My mother has not improved a bit. Thank god He wasn't there. I'll be back in town in half an hour, if you're at my place with beer then I will forever be in your debt._

Understanding perfectly, he fired off a couple of texts before replying.

**Combeferre:** _Eponine will be at your flat to look after Alana, Jehan will be there to take you to Courf's. We'll help you forget them again, don't worry._

* * *

As soon as she'd heard from Combeferre about the upcoming rallies and conferences, Cosette had rung Enjolras, offering to look after Alana while he wrote the many speeches Hacker needed to make.

"And yes that includes nights, because I know you and you won't sleep enough, if at all some nights, and Allie will need someone awake around in a morning to get her to nursery safe. I don't trust you driving when half-asleep."

"Cosette, you are a life saver. I owe you big style for this, I really do."

"I'll hold you to that. So I'll pick her up on my way home from work and drop her off when? Thursday? Friday?"

"Friday sounds good," he decided. "I'll call round at about five-ish, and thank you again for this."

"Stop thanking and start writing," she laughed. I'll see you tonight."

Five o'clock on Friday came and went but Cosette and Marius didn't worry, simply assuming Enjolras had lost track of time or was caught up in traffic or something. At half-past six both tried phoning him, but they still weren't overly worried by his the fact he didn't reply - after all, he could have just fallen asleep or been driving.

By half-past eight, both were majorly worried.

"He's never this late," Cosette fretted as she came back from checking on Alana. "Do you think something could have happened to him?"

Pulling out his phone, Marius quickly searched through his contacts and hit ring, staring at it wide-eyed after hearing the voicemail.

"You've reached Combeferre's voicemail. Sorry he can't answer the phone right now, he's currently busy having sex."

"Eponine got to it," he mumbled, flicking down the list to find soomeone else.

"What do you want?" Grantaire demanded when he finally answered, clearly not as drunk as he'd like to be.

"It's Enjolras. He was meant to pick up Alana over three hours ago and isn't answering the phone-"

"And you left it this long?" Grantaire growled, cutting Marius off. "Anything could have happened!"

"He's speech writing, we just thought maybe he hadn't noticed the time!" the younger man protested, but Grantaire was interrupting again.

"I'll call round to his flat now. If I need help, I'll ring. If not, assume things are fine and we'll see you tomorrow." Grantaire was still muttering when he hung up, grabbing his coat and leaving the pub in a hurry. He was only a few streets away from Enjolras's but hurried none the less, irrationally worried that Enjolras was hurt or ill. Fishing the spare key Enjolras had given him months earlier (all the close friends had one) he unlocked the flat and slipped inside, checking the office as soon as he had done.

The scene in front of him was familiar, though Grantaire hadn't seen it for six years. Enjolras never had known his limits when it came to working to close deadlines, choosing to sacrifice sleep and work through the night for the sake of a few sentences. The blonde was slumped over the desk, face pressed into an arm slung over the keyboard, as if protecting it from some unseen danger.

"Dammit," he sighed, walking over and shaking Enjolras's shoulder. "Wake up Apollo."

"Wha'?" Enjolras mumbled, blinking blearily as he reached consciousness just enough to notice there was someone next to him.

"When did you last sleep?" Grantaire demanded, dragging the other man to his feet. "Actually, never mind. I can probably guess. Knowing you it was at the beginning of the week, when you first started writing these blessed things. You have to sleep sometimes Apollo, even you are human sometimes." Grantaire was rambling unthinkingly to keep his mind from worrying about his friend, steering him through the house towards the room he had never entered but knew to be Enjolras's. "Can you imagine what Joly would be like if he knew you weren't sleeping? And right now you deserve every lecture Combeferre would throw at you, or insinuations that Courfeyrac would make." It took a bit of manuvering to open the bedroom door whilst holding up a mostly-asleep man but Grantaire eventually managed it, kicking the door wide open once the handle was turned and staggering inside. "Jesus Apollo, you weigh a freaking ton. Either I'm getting old or you're putting on weight."

Finally reaching the bed, Grantaire lowered Enjolras down onto it and sighed. "I ain't undressing you," he warned as he pulled Enjolras's shoes off. He sighed again as he studied the sleeping man, reaching over and brushing back the few curls falling onto his face. Enjolras had forgotten to cut his hair the past couple of months and already his hair was starting to frame his face and grow back into his old curls. Now, more than ever, he looked like an older male version of Alana. "Sleep well Apollo," Grantaire murmured, turning to leave the flat.

The hand that gripped his wrist tightly came as a surprise - clearly Enjolras wasn't quite as unconscious as Grantaire had assumed.

"Don't go," Enjolras mumbled, sleep slurring his words as effectively as alcohol would have. His eyes fluttered open slightly and he stared up at Grantaire. Not even the sleep clouding the blue orbs coud hide the look of need they held.

"I should..." Grantaire started but his voice trailed off, replaced with a small intake of breath, when Enjolras's grip tightened and he moved his head slightly, nose brushing against the pulse in Grantaire's wrist. "Goddammit," he groaned, knowing he was only seconds away from giving in.

"Please," Enjolras breathed, and a faint smile ghosted across his face when Grantaire gave a small nod. He watched from the bed, still mostly asleep, as Grantaire kicked off his own shoes and lay down carefully next to Enjolras, keeping a careful distance between them.

That didn't last however. No sooner had Enjolras's eyes closed again when he was tugging Grantaire's arm until Grantaire was forced to shift closer or roll over. He could feel Enjolras physically relax as Grantaire's arm wrapped round his torso, Enjolras's warm breath hitting Grantaire's neck as he gave in to his long-hidden feelings and tucked the taller man's head into the gap, resting his chin on Enjolras's hair. Enjolras curled around Grantaire's side with one hand still fastened around the arm hugging him to the artist, the other resting just centimetres from Grantaire's cheek while Grantaire had tangled his free hand in the blonde curls he had missed so much.

Both men were fast asleep almost instantly, looks of pure contentment on their faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been aiming towards this ending for well over a fortnight, so glad to have finally reached it!


	13. Walk Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire wakes up with Enjolras, has his first gig in the Musain, and Enjolras gets jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, apologies for the time gaps between updates. However, I now have my laptop back! Updates shall hopefully speed up again. This chapter is longer than originally planned, but hopefully that can make up a little for the wait.
> 
> This chapter is for carloadrian, who requested jealous!Enjolras and Grantaire singing again, hence the entire second half of the chapter.
> 
> Chunks in italics are sung by Grantaire.

Grantaire woke first the next morning, sighing as he shifted closer to the person he was holding. He breathed in deeply, face still buried in his companion's hair before he finally woke enough to wonder who exactly he was sleeping with.

The answer was obvious. He didn't even have to open his eyes to know he was in the bed of a certain blonde and Grantaire groaned, rolling so his hips were well away from Enjolras's.

"Fuck," he mumbled, running his free hand over his face tiredly. It took him over a minute to free his arm from under Enjolras's head without waking him, but he eventually succeeded, rolling out of bed straight away. He picked up his shoes from where they lay at the foot of the bed and padded down the hall almost silently, dropping them by the table in the kitchen. Sinking into a chair, Grantaire put his head in his hands and sighed. "I am a fucking idiot," he sighed, considering the logistics of running and hiding and never leaving the cave he'd find again. Suddenly, he remembered Marius and Cosette waiting to hear how Enjolras was and lunged across the room for his jacket, pulling out the phone and swearing softly at all the unread texts.

 **Marius:** _Is he okay?_

 **Marius:** _He's not dead or anything?_

 **Marius:** _Grantaire?_

 **Marius:** _Are you okay?_

 **Marius:** _Grantaire!_

 **Marius:** _If you haven't replied in five minutes I'm going to the police._

 **Cosette:** _Please ignore my fiance, he worries unnecessarily. He isn't going to the police. Text me when you see this letting us know how he is and when we'll have Alana till please, and we'll see you tomorrow. Remember to get enough sleep!_

Grantaire frowned at the last sentence before replying, ignoring all other texts until he'd reassured Marius they were still alive.

 **Grantaire:** _Sorry Cosette, fell asleep. He was asleep when I got here, passed out on the computer. He's still asleep, and could be for some time. I'll leave a message telling him to get his ass over to pick her up as soon as._

Sending that, he checked through the rest of his messages.

 **Bahorel:** _U making me drink alone again? Dick. U o me. Lots._

 **Combeferre:** _Do **not** stay up too late or get too drunk and hungover - please remember you have a show tomorrow night. Text me before 11._

"Oh shit, the show!" Grantaire yelped, leaping to his feet and firing off new texts, checking the time quickly as he did so - 12:39pm.

 **Grantaire:** _Bugger I forgot. Not drunk, hungover or tired though. At Enjolras's, so I'll call round in about an hour?_

 **Combeferre:** _Don't you dare forget. I have your guitar, and I'll be home instead of at the museum. Idiot._

The final message was from Courfeyrac.

 **Courfeyrac:** _We need cakes - please tell me what it is I pay you for as you never bloody well bake anything._

 **Grantaire:** _Get Bahorel to make the basics and promise him drinks from me and an apology. I'll come in tomorrow sometime - promise!_

"Why are you standing?" Enjolras mumbled behind him as he shuffled into the room, collapsing into a free chair.

"Because I was supposed to meet 'Ferre two hours ago," came the reply, Grantaire studiously avoiding Enjolras's eyes as he spoke. "Breakfast?"

"Coffee please."

"You need food more than caffeine," he lectured, silently wondering when he became so responsible and grown up.

"Fine. Toast please." The blonde paused. “Wait, didn't you just say you were late for meeting Combeferre? Shouldn't you be on your way?"

"I have an hour," the artist shrugged. “Feeding you is more important. When did you last eat?”

“I don’t remember,” Enjolras admitted softly.

“Sleep? Before last night, I mean.”

“Ditto.”

Grantaire sighed and glared at Enjolras.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know.” He smiled faintly when Grantaire placed the plate of toast and glass of water in front of him. “Thanks.”

“I’m amazed the bread is fit to eat,” the dark-haired man commented as he made toast for himself. Sitting opposite, they ate in silence for a few minutes before Grantaire stood again. “Want any more?” When Enjolras shook his head, he moved both plates to the sink. “You can wash up later. First off you need to shower, get changed, and go pick up Alana because it’s not fair on Marius and Cosette, and Marius really does need reassuring that you’re still alive to stop him from panicking because he’s still spamming my phone and I _told_ Cosette you were safe and asleep.” Grantaire pulled his shoes on whilst talking then straightened up, wincing slightly when his back clicked. “I gotta go.”

“Grantaire...” Enjolras sighed. “Look, about last night...”

“Forget it,” Grantaire interrupted. “I get it. You were tired and out of it – I could see that. Now I really have gotta go. I’ll see you round.” He stepped round Enjolras, avoiding the hand that shot out to catch his arm, and hurried from the flat before he made an idiot of himself even more.

* * *

“Good morning Grantaire,” Jehan sang as Grantaire rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a glass and filled it from the tap before drinking it in one.

“How the hell do you do that?” Feuilly asked, eyebrows raised. “I’ve lived with you guys for three years and you still refuse to tell me how you manage not to spill any.”

“I’m a drunk, we’re good at shit like that,” Grantaire replied. “Morning Jehan. What delightful poetry have you got for me today?”

“But the river didn’t seem so wide/’Cause you were looking out but not inside/White soul heroes are made of more than/Legend’s trashy dreams.”

“Jehan, that’s not poetry, that’s a song. Good song, but still a song.”

“Song’s are just poetry put to music,” Jehan shrugged.

“And let me guess – you want me to stop living in a broken whiskey glass.” Grantaire laughed bitterly. “My glasses aren’t broken, Jehan. You can’t drink from them if they are.”

“Knowing you you’d still try,” Feuilly muttered, but Jehan was concentrating on something else.

“Oh my god you’ve been at Enjolras’s all night!” he squealed, grinning excitedly. The smile faded when he saw Grantaire’s expressioin. “What’s up?”

“You’ve been at Enjolras’s?” Feuilly demanded.

“Someone needed to make sure he didn’t die from lack of sleep,” Grantaire shrugged, filling the glass again. “I stayed to make sure he was okay. End of story. Now if you don’t mind, I need a shower before I go meet Combeferre.” Brushing past Jehan, he ignored both of them as he left.

“This is just going from bad to worse,” Jehan sighed.

“They’re both stubborn,” Feuilly agreed. “But someone will talk them round eventually.”

* * *

“You’re late,” Combeferre called over when Grantaire let himself into his friend’s flat.

“I was making breakfast before he starved to death,” Grantaire muttered, dropping into a chair. “I bloody hate him.”

“I’d gladly let you tell me all about it, but in five hours you have your first gig and that needs sorting first. Have you sorted a set list?”

“Er... no?”

Combeferre groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

“Okay, that had best be the first job then. This could take some time....”

* * *

“Jehan, all I want to know is if he’s okay. He went running out of here this morning and isn’t answering his phone.”

“He’s at ‘Ferre’s getting ready for the show, Enjolras,” Jehan said patiently.  “He’s probably too busy to answer the phone.”

“Show? What show is this?”

“His gig at the Musain tonight? Remember? The first time he’s ever performed in public.”

“I was never told about it,” Enjolras slowly said, sitting down and pulling Alana onto his knee as she tugged at his sleeve. “What time does it start at?”

“Half eight.”

“Thanks Jehan.”

Listening to the dialling tone as Enjolras hung up, Jehan sighed, wondering if he’d done the right thing in telling him.

* * *

“So, er, hi everyone. This is my first time, so apologies if anything goes wrong.” Grantaire gave the room a small smile. “These are all mine, so if you’re searching for songs you know, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place. So yeah... This first one is called Home.” Strumming the guitar once to check it was tuned, he set off into the song he had sung for Eponine in London. His friends were taking up about half of the pub but the other half instantly fell silent when he started singing, listening intently.

“Oh he’s good,” Cosette murmured to Eponine, getting a nod of agreement in reply. The cheers that went up at the end surprised Grantaire and he blinked, staring round at everyone with his mouth slightly open for a few seconds before he remembered himself and smiled.

“Something more cheerful next I think,” he grinned, tuning the guitar differently. Courfeyrac and Bahorel laughed when the next one started, jumping up and dancing round in time to the tune.

“God this one’s old,” Combeferre laughed. “He wrote this when he was twenty.”

Enjolras walked in halfway through the song, and his eyebrows shot up at the sight of Courfeyrac and Bahorel doing a jig on the table. The smile faded off his lips when he heard what Grantaire was singing.

“ _Then the curse of Tequila,_  
 _It makes me happy,_  
 _Con Tequila it feels fine,_  
 _Con Tequila when the doors are opened,_  
 _And con Tequila when they're calling time._  
 _If there’s a lot on your mind it’s there to help you forget,_  
 _To relax and rewind and leave behind the regret,_  
 _First sip makes you well before you know it its time,_  
 _And you’re saying to help with the salt, lemon and lime._ ”

Shaking his head disapprovingly, Enjolras sat next to Jehan, accepting the drink offered.

“Sorry I’m late, Gavroche is watching babysitting but Alana wouldn’t settle. How much did I miss?”

“This is only the second song, don’t worry.” Jehan was personally quite glad that Grantaire had missed the first song.

“Give us a love song,” a girl called out from near the front.

“Okay, sure thing. Here goes. Lonely Boy. This one’s for you.” Grantaire smiled at the girl who’d called out the request and Enjolras took a quick drink as he felt a stab of jealousy inside.

“ _What do you say that I might hear?_ ” Grantaire started, looking straight at the girl as he sang. He’d yet to notice that Enjolras had entered the room, and was trying to forget what had gone at this morning. Flirting with the girl seemed the perfect way.  
“ _What starts in love just ends in fear._  
 _I just don’t understand,_  
 _‘cause I’m a lo, lo, lo, lo, lonely boy._ ”

Courfeyrac let out a whoop and pulled Jehan into his arms.

“ _What do you feel that I might feel?_  
 _Your mind you said was made of steel._  
 _Your ambition calls,_  
 _In cold hearted halls,_  
 _Makes me a lo lo lo lo lonely boy._  
 _Hey you, I miss the reality,_  
 _I miss the funny way that you look at me,_  
 _Hey you, I miss you,_  
 _No one could ever take your place._  
 _I hoped one day that we might be._  
 _Lo, lo, lo, lo, lonely boy._ ”

“I need another drink,” Enjolras muttered, heading over for the bar. Grantaire’s eyes flickered to him the moment he moved, eyes widening slightly.

“Who the hell told him?” he muttered, using tuning his guitar as an excuse to look down. “Okay, so another love song coming up for the pretty lady on the front row.” Grantaire smiled at her again and Enjolras gritted his teeth, downing his new drink almost in one and buying another. The jealousy was growing, working its way through his mind until all he could think about was storming over to the girl and telling her to fuck off away from the man he loved.

“Dammit,” he breathed, running a shaky hand over his face.

“You okay?” Combeferre asked, sitting next to Enjolras as Grantaire started singing.

“ _Barbara was the first when I was 12 or 13,_  
 _Man I was so scared but still that didn’t stop me._ ”

“You dirty bastard!” Courferyac shouted over, making everyone laugh, even Grantaire. It didn’t stop him from continuing though.

“ _Hey, hey Melonie true love did pass between us,_  
 _Always hoped that we might meet outside St. Peters._ ”

Grantaire winked at the girl as he started the chorus and Enjolras slammed his drink down, making ‘Ferre’s eyebrows rise.

“ _Take my soul, take my spirit,_  
 _Take my heart and tear it up._  
 _Take my love, do something with it,_  
 _You know I’ll never understand it._ ”

“Yeah, we definitely need to talk,” Combeferre said softly, dragging Enjolras up by the elbow and steering him towards the bathrooms. He laughed softly when he heard the next verse, realising Grantaire had just changed Enjolras into a girl.

“ _Hey you Russian girl our life got like a war zone,_  
 _Real love, art and sex and screaming down the telephone._  
 _Been too much pain in my world._ ”

“You’re jealous of Grantaire flirting with that girl,” he guessed correctly as the door swung shut behind them.

“She has no right to be looking at him like that,” Enjolras snapped, spinning round and gripping the edges of the sink tightly, staring down into it. Combeferre said nothing, just looked at him sadly as he sighed. “Oh who am I to say that. She has just as much right to look at him like that as anyone does. He looks fucking gorgeous up there and he’s not mine anymore.” Combeferre almost moved forwards when he drew in a shuddering breath. “I have no right to feel like this,” Enjolras whispered, looking up at him with tears glittering in his eyes. “I just can’t help it, but I think I’ve ruined everything. He wouldn’t even look at me this morning.”

“What happened?” Combeferre asked softly. “Grantaire wouldn’t tell me anything earlier.”

“I barely remember last night,” Enjolras said quietly. “I remember writing and trying desperately to stay awake, then Grantaire was waking me and dragging me upstairs. I... God, ‘Ferre, I screwed up. I vaguely remember not letting him go. I think I asked him to stay with me.” His voice had faded to almost nothing for the last sentence.

“Go on,” Combeferre said after a few minutes silence.

“I slept better than I have in years, and he was still in the flat next morning, and I remember being held so I’m assuming he stayed. But I was alone when I woke up and now he won’t look at me and he just ran off this morning when I tried to talk to him about him.” He looked up at Combeferre again. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, leaning into his friend when Combeferre pulled him into a hug, the tears finally falling. “I love him but whatever I do I seem to end up failing and pushing him further away. I need him, ‘Ferre. I fucked things up completely when I left and I can’t fix that, and I think it’s going to kill me inside.”

“Tell him,” Combeferre advised, remembering Grantaire’s last drunken visit to his flat only a few days before, when the artist had staggered in swearing that he couldn’t go on without Enjolras in his life properly. He’d said plenty of other things as well, but Combeferre had tried to block those out – there was such a thing as too much detail.

“I can’t. He won’t even look at me, how can I tell him that?”

“You’ll never get anywhere if you don’t talk to him!” Combeferre pointed out exasperatedly, pulling back.

“Guys, what the hell is taking so long?” Feuilly shouted in, banging on the door. “You’ve been missing for three whole songs! Even Grantaire has noticed and he’s got blonde and brunette flirting with him.” Enjolras gritted his teeth at that but said nothing.

“Coming!” Combeferre called back, looking over at Enjolras one last time. “We can’t hide in here forever,” he said quietly as he unlocked the door.

They walked out partway through the next song and Combeferre almost groaned when he heard the song. _They are both too bloody stubborn_ , he thought silently, sliding into the seat next to Eponine with a sigh. It was obvious to all the friends who the song was about, but Enjolras remained oblivious, staring up at Grantaire as he sang, a small smile on his lips.

“ _I wish I didn't feel so strong about you,_  
 _Like happiness and love revolve around you._  
 _Trying to catch your heart,_  
 _Is like trying to catch a star,_  
 _So many people love you baby,_  
 _That must be what you are._ ”

“What’s that all about?” Eponine murmured, leaning over so her lips were practically against Combeferre’s ear. “Enjolras looks like he’s been crying.”

“He has,” Combeferre replied, voice so low she almost couldn’t hear him. “We really need to sort those two out. He’s jealous of the girls, and the attention Grantaire’s giving them not to mention the attention they’re giving him.”

“But Grantaire is singing about him and how he loves him.”

“We know that, but Enjolras is stupid enough to believe Grantaire hates him.”

“ _I don't know how to dream your dream,_ ” Grantaire continued, eyes catching Enjolras’s.  
“ _So I'm all caught up in superstition,_  
 _I want to reach out and pull you to me,_  
 _Who says I should let a wild one go free._  
 _But I can't love you this much baby,_  
 _And love you from this far._  
 _Waiting for a star to fall,_  
 _And carry your heart into my arms,_  
 _That's where you belong_  
 _In my arms baby, yeah._ ”

Enjolras shook off Jehan’s hand when the poet placed it on his arm softly, and glared at him when he asked if Enjolras was okay.

“Fine,” he snapped shortly, buying another beer.

“This one was written for an old friend,” Grantaire said suddenly. “They know who they are.” Enjolras’s head snapped round to face him and the rest of the group all fell silent, watching both men cautiously. Grantaire’s eyes were fixed on Enjolras’s the whole time when he started singing, not that anyone who didn’t know the pair well noticed.

“ _In my eyes you were born second to none,_  
 _Heads above all the rest, you’re the chosen one,_  
 _And love’s design led me to deception’s door._  
 _But I got, I got that wake up call._  
 _To rise before I fall._

“ _Let me remind you please,_  
 _These were the words you’d say,_  
 _“I will never walk, never walk away”,_  
 _Now if you fool me once, bad on you,_  
 _Fool me twice then bad on you,_  
 _Now you better walk, better walk away._

“ _I’m sick and tired of the rumours in the air,_  
 _Can’t you once let me know that you really care_  
 _I’ll be alright, without you I will be okay._  
 _‘Cause this is, this is your wake up call,_  
 _I’m here to watch you fall._ ”

As Grantaire started the chorus again, Enjolras drained his drink and stood up, saluting Grantaire with the empty bottle when he sang the line “ _Now you better walk, better walk away._ ”

“As you wish,” he mumbled, slamming the bottle down and walking out.

“Oh fuck,” Courfeyrac sighed in the silence which followed, Grantaire stopping playing to stare after him.

* * *

“’Scuse me ladies,” Grantaire said to the two friends sat by the makeshift stage after he’d finished playing completely, smiling at them but ignoring all their attempts to start a conversation as he pushed past them to walk over to Combeferre.

“Cleverly done there,” Combeferre sighed, holding out a beer. Grantaire accepted it gladly, having spent the last few hours drinking only water.

“He said that once,” Grantaire said conversationally. “That he’d never walk away. Then he did.” He glanced over at his friend. “The song was written when he first came back. I thought that him just leaving again would be best. Then I forgave him, and realised just how much I still feel... But at the minute I don’t know if I’m coming or going with him. Sometimes he acts like he wants to be friends, sometimes like he wants more than that, but then he pushes me away or says things that show he’s over me, that anything else was a mistake.”

“Talk to him,” Combeferre suggested.

“And some advice – don’t sing anything in front of Enjolras that makes him think you hate him,” Courfeyrac added, leaning over Combeferre’s shoulder. “At least, not if you ever want to get laid with him again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the responses to this story - I can't believe the number of comments, subscribers and kudos!
> 
> Songs! Almost forgot to inform you what they are. I'm being naughty and pretending Grantaire wrote them, but oh well. In the order they appear:
> 
> Home by Amsterdam  
> Tequila by Terrorvision  
> Lonely Boy by Amsterdam  
> The Lament by Amsterdam (I swear they are not my favourite band, no matter how it may seem)  
> Waiting For A Star To Fall by Lionville (originally Boy Meets Girl but I'm an AOR girl by heart so I love the cover more)  
> Walk Away by W.E.T.
> 
> If you have heard of most of these bands then I will love you forever. Apologies for my AOR and Liverpool obsession slipping into this, but I avoided the country-rock so be thankful there.


	14. A Week Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras fights to have some time with his daughter, Combeferre lends them a family cottage and tries to persuade Grantaire to do him a favour.

"No sir. Yes, I do know that this week is three of the biggest rallies Jim is attending this year, but I spent the past week writing twenty bloody speeches for him. I need some time with my daughter, before she forgets she has a parent altogether. No sir, I don't care. Yes, of course I will be there for the conference next week. I wouldn't dream of missing that. Look, if I could please remind you that I booked this week as holidays as soon as I heard Hacker wanted those speeches writing last week- What the hell do you mean leave for this week has been cancelled?!" Enjolras growled something under his breath and ran a hand through his hair, turning on his heel and continuing his pacing through the kitchen. "Get me Jim. Damn it Colin, just get me Hacker!"

"Daddy?"

Turning to face his daughter, who was standing in the doorway watching him nervously, Enjolras felt a soft smile cross his face.

"Come here sweetheart," he said quietly, holding out his free arm. Alana ran over and hugged him tightly as he picked her up. "Oof, you're getting big and heavy madam," he laughed, stopping instantly when he heard his boss on the other side of the phone.

_"What is it, Enjolras? It had better be good."_

"Sir, I need this week off. I cleared it with you before I started on the speeches, yet there's people trying to block me now and demanding I come on."

_"Your daughter, right? Well of course you can have this week off, you explained it all before. Drop the speeches off before nine thirty, and be back at work for the conference next Monday."_

"Yes sir," Enjolras said with a grin, very relieved. Dropping the phone onto the table, he held Alana with both hands and swung her round, smiling as she laughed excitedly. "Hear that Allie? I got a whole week off to spend with you."

"What are we doing?" she asked, arms fastening round his neck when he hugged her to him again.

"Well first we need to have breakfast. Then I was thinking of a few days away. I just need to make another quick call though, to sort everything out." Alana nodded but didn't let go, and Enjolras simply shifted her weight so he could pick up the phone again. "'Ferre? Oh, morning Eponine. Yes, I do know what time it is, half-eight isn't that early, nor is it an ungodly time. Is Combeferre there?" He winced and held the phone away from his ear as Eponine yelled for Combeferre. "Ah, morning 'Ferre. Remember me asking about if your family still had that cottage? Can I definitely use it? From today till next Saturday. Or possibly Sunday." Enjolras grinned at his friend's reply. "'Ferre, you are a complete star. I'll call by the museum on our way out to pick up the keys then. Thank you once again. We need this week."

Placing the phone down once again, Enjolras kissed Alana's forehead absentmindedly as he seated her at the table and set about sorting breakfast for them both, answering her questions all the while.

"Where are we going?"

"To the seaside."

"Will it be sunny?"

"Hopefully, but there's plenty of indoor things nearby in case it's not."

"Have you been before?"

"Me and 'Ferre used to go a lot when we were kids. It belongs to his family."

"Will you be there all week?"

At that, Enjolras stopped buttering his toast and looked over at Alana seriously.

"I'll be there the whole time," he promised. "It's just going to be you and me. This is me trying to make up for the amount of time I've spent at work recently, so you're stuck with me for the whole week."

"What about Uncle R?"

Enjolras froze.

"What about him?" he asked quietly.

"Won't he be there?"

"Alana, this is a family holiday. R isn't family," he said softly, turning back to the counter and food. His daughter frowned slightly as she tried to work it out.

"I call them all uncle," she said confusedly. "Isn't uncles family?"

"Only if the uncle is a brother of a parent. I don't have any brothers. They're just close family friends."

"You love family, yes?"

"Yes, kiddo. Family is the people you love."

"Then Uncle R is family."

"And what makes you think that?" he asked, glancing over again.

"Because Uncle Marius said it was ob- obvi- obvous you love him," she managed finally, struggling to pronounce 'obvious'. "That you were both stupid and loved each other and should just tell each other that."

"Well that is just Marius's view," Enjolras said firmly, planning on having words with him on what was said near his daughter.

"Do you love him?"

The question took Enjolras by surprise and he hesitated before answering.

"It's tricky, Allie, okay? Now come on, eat up. We still have to pack."

* * *

"Combeferre?" Enjolras called, leaning over the rope to look up the stairs.

"Just head on up," Combeferre shouted down.

"Some of the stuff in that gallery is downright weird," he muttered as he entered the museum office, shaking his head. "How long are we left with it down there? I mean, a picture of an eye with an insect in the iris? What the hell was the artist thinking?"

"God only knows, but sadly I have no choice in what gets shown," Combeferre sighed. "I get choice in fifteen artists for the next show though. I just have to persuade Grantaire to put in a picture and I'm sorted."

"Good luck with that." Enjolras pulled the list towards him and read it quickly. "I actually recognise some of these names. I'll have to check the exhibition out when it opens."

"Well it's local scenes and local artists, so should be good. Here, the keys for the cottage." Combeferre held the surprisingly large bunch of keys out. "Have fun. I bet Alana's looking forward to it."

"Oh that she is. I left her in the shop with Marius, she's probably still babbling on about it." The pair laughed and Enjolras took the keys. "I'll see you next weekend then."

"Enjoy your week," Combeferre said warmly, leaning back in his seat. "I'll let people know you're away for a week, that way you won't get bothered by Bahorel or Courfeyrac calling about nonsense."

"As they do." Enjolras paused. "Look, ah, can you talk to Grantaire for me? Just tell him I'm sorry, and I'll talk to him when I get home."

"I'll pass the message on," promised Combeferre. "See you at weekend."

* * *

 **Combeferre:** _Grantaire, I have a message for you from Enjolras. He says that he's sorry, and that he'll talk to you when he gets home. He's away with Alana for the week._

 **Grantaire:** _Oh. Okay. Thanks. I guess._

 **Combeferre:** _And I need a favour._

 **Grantaire:** _What exactly?_

**Combeferre:** _I need a picture._

**Grantaire:** _Why?_

**Combeferre:** _Because this exhibition is on local artists and you’re a local artist._

**Grantaire:** _No._

**Combeferre:** _Please? I_ _'ll owe you forever. Just one picture, that's all I need. It doesn't even have to be new_

**Grantaire:** _You know I hate my work in public._ _Why me?_

**Combeferre:** _You’re amazing?_

**Grantaire:** _Theme?_

**Combeferre:** _Local stuff. Other than that, free reign._

**Grantaire:** _You promise? You promise I can have free reign?_

**Combeferre:** _You have my word._

**Grantaire:** _You owe me._

**Combeferre:** _I know. Thank you!_

**Grantaire:** _When?_

**Combeferre:** _Just over a week._

Combeferre’s phone rang. Seeing the user ID, he answered it nervously.

“Seriously?!” Grantaire yelled.

“I’m a picture short,” Combeferre replied calmly. “I was given a list of people the sponsor wants in and could chose who I wanted for the remaining slots.”

“And you chose me.”

“Why wouldn’t I? Your work is incredible, it’s about time someone other than your friends saw it.”

“I hate you,” Grantaire grumbled.

“Thank you,” Combeferre said sincerely, relief evident in his voice. Putting the phone down he added Grantaire’s name to the list in front of him. He span round on his chair and grinned as he worked his way down the list on the whiteboard and realised he’d finally completed all the jobs written there. “Time for a late lunch,” he decided out loud, deciding moments later that he needed new staff to work with. Talking to yourself was never a good sign.

* * *

Alana loved every moment of their week at the cottage, and Enjolras found himself relaxing more than he had in years. He felt a deep sense of pleasure whenever Alana's face lit up at something, so he delighted in taking her wherever she wanted. He happily spent an entire day at the beach (the first time he'd been on sand that long without complaining) just because Alana had enjoyed building sandcastles and paddling in the shallows. The following day he took her to the zoo, making up little stories about each animal which made his daughter giggle and point at more and more pens, demanding new tales.

Filling up the back seat of his car with board games and films had been a good choice, he decided on Wednesday, when the heavens opened and they were stuck inside all day. He kept his daughter entertained until late afternoon, when she snuck outside and danced around in the rain, jumping into every puddle she saw until Enjolras caught sight of her. He ran out after her, swinging her up into his arms and lecturing her on how she was sure to catch a cold, though he could barely stop from laughing.

That night, Alana left her room and ran into his, crying about a bad dream. Enjolras sighed and shuffled over on the bed, letting her crawl on and curl up next to him, crying onto his shoulder as he hugged her and kissed her forehead, stroking her hair back.

"What was it sweetie?" he asked softly.

"Monster in the cupboard," she whispered, burying her face in his shoulder again.

"You know, that was only a film. There aren't really monsters in your cupboard."

"But..."

"Allie, you were the one who wanted to watch Monsters Inc. It's not real," he said firmly.

"Can I stay here?" she pleaded, looking up at him with big eyes.

"Course you can," he gave in finally, pulling the quilt so it covered them both. "Only tonight though."

The next morning, Enjolras was woken by Alana sitting at the bottom of the bed, swinging her feet as she sang to herself softly. The rain had yet to end, but Enjolras was determined they were going to go somewhere so spent the next half hour scouring the internet for indoor places.

"Eureka!" he cried finally. "I'd almost forgotten that place existed!" He grinned at his daughter when she came running over. "Me and 'Ferre used to spend days in Eureka. It's a science museum for kids. Lots of fun, I promise. Loads of games and activities to do. Shall we go?" She nodded excitedly. "Then let's go see how much it changed."

The sun was shining by the time they woke up on Friday, and the pair decided that the local petting farm looked fun.

"Daddy..." Alana started later, when they were sat on a bench with a Border Collie puppy on Enjolras's knee.

"No," he replied instantly.

"But daddy, please!" She didn't even have to finish her request for Enjolras to know exactly what she was asking.

"We're not allowed pets in our flat," he explained. "I'd love a dog, but we can't have one right this minute."

"But daddy!"

"No Allie," he said firmly, standing up and putting the puppy back in the pen where she was almost instantly picked up by another set of children. Returning to his daughter, he sat back down and pulled her onto his knee. "One day," he promised, kissing her temple. "One day."

Saturday dawned far too early for either of their likings, but for once Alana didn't complain, helping her father to pack up all their belongings and move them to the car.

"Don't worry if we forget anything," Enjolras told her as they sat down to lunch. "Combeferre said we can come back whenever we want. His parents never come out here anymore, they prefer holidays abroad, so this place is empty whenever Combeferre is at home. Would you like that - to head out here again?"

"Just us two?"

"Just us two."

She smiled and nodded. "It's been fun," she announced.

"Then we'll definitely come back," he smiled. Alana hadn't been the only one to have enjoyed the week away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The museum mentioned in this, Eureka, is real, however I sort of shifted the location, as Halifax isn't exactly close to the sea. There is still no fixed location for where this fic is set though. I can't decide on that.


	15. Selector's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exhibition opening night comes round, a winning artist is chosen, and Combeferre asks Eponine a big question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I started writing this straight after I posed the last chapter then got distracted by writing other stuff for this AU, but I haven't the patience to beta today I'm afraid. Therefore, if there are any mistakes, whether spelling, grammatical or timeline wise, then I apologise.

Combeferre stood in his room nervously adjusting his tie. It didn't matter how many times he had opened a new exhibition in the gallery, he still hated having to stand in front of everyone as the owner of the museum.

"It's cute, just how nervous and shy you can get," Eponine commented with a smile as she walked in and batted his hands away, tying it for him. "You look handsome as ever, so just relax." Placing one finger against his lips when he started to reply, she pushed his glasses up his nose before kissing him softly. "Don't argue. Just agree."

"Okay," he murmured, kissing her again. "I love you."

"I love you too. Now come on, or we'll be late. I need you to fasten my necklace."

"Why do you always choose the fiddly ones?" he sighed as he struggled to clip it together. "The mayor's going to be there tonight," he said quietly, glancing into the mirror again when she turned to face him. "I've never had the mayor at an opening before."

"His son is one of the artists," Eponine reminded him. "And now we really do have to leave. We have to unlock the doors."

"Grantaire has keys."

"And you want Grantaire to be the one welcoming people?" she asked amusedly.

"You're right. Let's go." Sneaking in another kiss, Combeferre grabbed her hand and set off for the door, making Eponine laugh then cry out a warning.

"Watch the heels!"

* * *

Walking into the lounge, Grantaire hovered by the door and looked over at Courfeyrac and Jehan, clearing his throat until they noticed him and stopped making out.

"How do I look?" he asked nervously, glancing down at his old suit again.

"Too smart," Courfeyrac replied, at the same time as Jehan announced, "Marvellous." The couple shared a look and shifted closer together again.

"Please try to stop snogging long enough to actually come to the event tonight," Grantaire sighed.

"Mmhmm," was the only reply he got.

Turning and wandering down the stairs, he swung into the kitchen and looked longingly at the fridge, wanting nothing more than a beer but knowing Combeferre expected him sober tonight. "Ready?" he asked the pair who sat at the table.

"I have to work," Feuilly explained with an apologetic look.

"But I'm ready," Bahorel grinned, grabbing Grantaire and pulling him closer so he could mess up his hair.

"Hey!" the artist cried, pulling away again. "Watch it. I actually have to be smart tonight."

"God help 'Ferre with you two going," Feuilly laughed. "Have a good one, I'll see you both tomorrow."

* * *

"Hello, and welcome to the Steward's Gallery." By the time the tenth group of guests were arriving, Combeferre was getting sick of having to keep saying the same thing and smile at everyone.

"If you'd like to just come this way," Eponine took over, recognising the look in his eyes and slipping her hand into his, squeezing it lightly. "There are drinks in the cafe to our right, or you can head straight in to view the pictures through here."

"I really hate these events," he murmured once they'd headed into the cafe, dropping his head to kiss her cheek. "You are a lifesaver."

"I'm leaving you for the next guest," she replied, laughing at the look of shock on his face. The look faded when he saw Grantaire step through the door, followed closely by Bahorel.

"So you're the thugs stealing my girlfriend," he muttered, trying (and failing) to look threatening, instead just making Bahorel burst out laughing.

"That's us," Grantaire smirked, offering an arm to Eponine. "I promised this young lady a drink, so a drink she shall get."

"Don't get too drunk," Combeferre said softly as he passed, a look of worry instead of warning in his eyes. Pausing, Grantaire nodded once before continuing into the cafe, trailed by a still laughing Bahorel.

"Good evening Monsieur," Enjolras said with a small bow, Combeferre rolling his eyes as he held out the leaflet telling guests who each picture was by. Scanning down the list, Enjolras couldn't help but smile softly when he saw the name he was searching for. "You know, it took me three weeks to stop laughing at the fact that Grantaire's last name is Wise."

"It apparently took Courfeyrac six weeks, so that isn't too bad really," Combeferre laughed. "His picture in this exhibit is pretty incredible. Don't tell anyone I told you this, but he's down for Selector's Choice."

"And that is...?"

"The best picture is chosen and that artist gets an entire exhibition to themselves," he explained quickly. "The entire gallery is their's for a month."

"And he's one of the artists nominated?" Enjolras let out a low whistle when Combeferre nodded. "That's impressive. So which one do I need to look out for?"

"You'll know it when you see it," was all Combeferre would say.

* * *

"Wow," Bahorel said after a couple of minutes of silence staring at the picture, and Eponine chuckled whilst Grantaire shifted from foot to foot, clearly embarrassed.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"You know Bahorel, I don't remember you ever being silenced by something before," Eponine teased and Bahorel let out a bark of laughter, only just stopping himself from ruffling her hair. Eponine was the only member of their friendship group safe from that particular show of affection, having shown her disapproval many times before in various ways. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to find my boyfriend, before he has to stand up and make a speech."

"Hey," Combeferre smiled when she slipped her arms round his waist from behind, turning his head slightly to kiss her. "I thought you were going to leave me to fend off artists all night."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Catching sight of Enjolras, Eponine's lips tightened slightly. "How come he's here?"

"Hacker sent him as his representative. He couldn't come himself, so instead chose Enjolras."

Catching sight of the judges entering the room, Combeferre headed over, Eponine slipping her hand inside his as she accompanied him.

"Our decision is made," the first announced.

"The speeches can start whenever," the second continued.

"Of course." Turning to face the room of artists and families, Combeferre cleared his throat and called out, "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, if I could please have your attention." He wanted to shrink down into nothing when a hundred and fifty people turned to face him, but instead straightened slightly and smiled at everyone. "Welcome to our Museum and the Steward's Gallery. This particular exhibition is the commision of our very own Mayor" - he fell silent while the man himself acknowledged everyone - "and celebrates local artists. As always, we have our Selector's Choice competition, and after much deliberation they have come to their decision." He paused again as the first judge passed him the slip of paper holding the name of the winner, and Combeferre couldn't help a small smile from curving across his lips as he read it. Quickly putting on his best poker face, he looked round the room, noticing Grantaire, Bahorel and Enjolras all staring at him hopefully. "I'm delighted to announce that the winner this time is Grantaire Wise."

"YES!" Bahorel roared, giving a very shocked looking Grantaire a bear hug whilst laughing loudly. Everyone clapped and cheered as Grantaire was pushed forwards to the front, still looking as if he had no idea what was going on. In fact, everyone was focusing so much on Grantaire that no-one noticed Enjolras slipping out of the room and into the gallery itself - well, no-one but Combeferre.

Patting Grantaire on the back, he murmured, "Well done," into his ear before pulling back and nodding at the gallery. "Now get in there and talk to him while the mayor makes his speech."

Smiling faintly at everyone Grantaire hurried from the room, telling everyone who tried to stop him that he needed some air. They all listened and congratulated him, letting him leave. Only Bahorel stepped forward to follow him but he stopped when Grantaire shook his head at him, understanding perfectly.

Entering the gallery, Grantaire walked blindly until he was only one corner away from his painting, hesitating there. He slowly peered round the corner, watching Enjolras standing there, studying the picture.

"You know, it's quite something," Enjolras said conversationally. "The castle is just incredible, and the storm clouds behind it are truly realistic. But the child... I can't tell if it's a boy or girl. I mean, the hair is shoulder length, but I've seen pictures of Jehan at this sort of age and he had this length hair. If I'm honest, so did I. But they're not at all scared by the weather. They're just happy to sit there and play, happy with where they are." Enjolras turned to look at Grantaire. "Is there a kind of message here which you're trying to pass on?"

"Even when things are troubled, you can find enjoyment and happiness," he replied softly, stepping forwards to join Enjolras but not looking at him. "But that's just one way of looking at it. Another could be that we have shit weather in this town and that if the child wants to play by the castle, they have to put up with that." Enjolras laughed quietly and glanced over.

"Well no matter what it means, it's amazing and you deserved to win."

"How did you know it was me?" Grantaire asked.

"I know your footsteps." Enjolras shrugged. "Some things you can't forget."

"How was your holiday?"

"Very enjoyable thank you. It's not often these days that me and Alana get to spend a lot of time alone together, so it was nice to finally get the chance."

"How is she?"

"Tired, but she's fine." It was Enjolras's turn to hesitate. "How have you been?"

"Fine."

The blonde sighed.

"Grantaire, we need to talk."

"No we don't. I get it. It was a mistake, you didn't mean it, blah blah blah, end of story. I'm not an idiot, Enjolras, at least not a big enough one to think that you knew what you were doing whilst that far out of it."

"No it's not. It was only a mistake if you want it to be. Yes I was tired, yes I was out of it, but it wasn't a mistake from my side of things. I don't even know if I should be saying this because I don't know how you feel, but I asked you to stay that night because I wanted you to stay. That night, I slept better than I had in months, and it wasn't just because I was exhausted 'Taire." Turning to face Grantaire, Enjolras grabbed his hands and met his eyes, eyes dark and serious. "It wasn't a mistake. Remember that." Pulling away, he pulled his coat back on. "Congratulations on winning. The picture is perfect. I'm sorry, I need to go. I promised Gavroche I'd be home for nine." Smiling tiredly at Grantaire, he glanced at the painting one more time before exiting the gallery, leaving the artist standing on his own.

"He said it wasn't a mistake," he mumbled when Bahorel found him quarter of an hour later, still standing in front of his picture in a daze. "He said it wasn't a mistake."

"Well isn't that just great," Bahorel announced, steering him towards the door. "I think you've had enough to drink mate, let's get you home."

Sticking his head into the cafe, he signalled to Combeferre that they were leaving before pulling Grantaire towards the car. "Come on, let's go see if Jehan and Courfeyrac managed to make it into their room or not."

* * *

"Well?" Eponine inquired after everyone had left, walking over to Combeferre and kissing him, arms slipping round his neck as his hands fastened on her waist and tugged her closer. "Was tonight a success?"

"Indeed it was," he smiled, kissing her again. "For everyone. Grantaire gets shown to the public so people can finally appreciate his talent, and the mayor is happy enough with how everything was run that he's decided he's holding his charity dinner up here in the cafe."

"So all in all, good for everyone."

"Yup. And now I have a question for you." Feeling her freeze, he chuckled softly. "Not quite the question I had in mind, 'Ponine." Pulling back slightly, he took a key from his pocket and held it out. "Will you move in with me?"

Throwing herself forward with a grin, Eponine kissed Combeferre deeply, pressing herself against him.

"Hell yes," she whispered against his lips, kissing him after every. "I. Love. You. So. Damn. Much."

"I love you too," he breathed, fisting his hands in her hair. "Good god I love you too."

"Let's go home," she suggested, a sparkle in her eyes. "You know, that sounded good. Home."

"Our home," he beamed, kissing her one last time before dragging her out of the museum and towards his car. "Our home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be honest, from the chapter summary, how many of you thought Combeferre was going to propose?
> 
> Next chapter could be a few days, I need to update other fics, I've ideas for this AU that I want to try and write before I forget, and I've a tune to a ballad to make up, but I'll update as soon as possible.
> 
> Thank you (once again) to all the feedback to this story - I seriously cannot believe it. To all of you - you are incredible and I love you all!


	16. Ding Dong! The Bells Are Gonna Chime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the wedding comes around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally going to either be a lot shorter or in two parts, but as a thank you to everyone who has read this story so far and got it to over 5000 hits, I decided you could have a chapter of over 5000 words.
> 
> On another note, it's nearly midnight, I've just written 6000 words and I still have Biology questions to do for tomorrow. I haven't had time to read through this, so apologies for any mistakes. I just wanted to get this posted.

The day before the wedding, Grantaire groaned and rolled over, falling off the bed with a thud that echoed round his basement room. "...Fuck!" followed it, the cold floor waking him more effectively than anything else could, and he jumped up, charging towards the bathroom.

For some reason he couldn't quite work out, his phone was already in the bathroom and so when it started ringing, the ringtone shooting straight to the centre of Grantaire's aching head then bouncing round in order to cause as much pain as possible, he was able to snatch it up and answer without leaving his position curled up next to the toilet.

"What?" he snarled, hating whoever it was for inflicting this pain on him.

"How are you?" Combeferre sounded rough himself.

"What the fuck was in my drinks?"

"No-one spiked your drinks, 'Taire. You just haven't drunk that much in a while. We've been cutting you down."

"...You wha'?"

"We've been cutting you down. Making you stop drinking sooner and sooner each night, weaning you off it again."

"That. Explains. Everything. I fucking hate you all." Feeling another wave of nausea approaching, Grantaire dropped the phone until he was in a fit state to talk again, wiping his mouth with the back of his other hand as he picked the mobile up.

"'Taire, are you okay?" Combeferre was saying, clearly worried by the lack of response.

"M'fine," Grantaire mumbled. "Just praying to the porcelain god. Now where was I? Oh yeah. I hate you all."

"Blame Courf, he's the one who planned the stag night. Eponine has yet to stop laughing at me, I don't even remember where we ended up or what happened properly. Look, I rang to ask if you had somewhere I could crash tonight. 'Chetta wants all the men in one place so she can sort suits quickly and easily, and I'm the only one who doesn't live in that flat."

"I'll find you somewhere," Grantaire promised, sticking his head out of the bathroom to peer round the room at the junk piled everywhere. "...Probably."

* * *

The morning of the wedding dawned without a single blue cloud in the sky, and when Grantaire and Combeferre emerged from the basement room everyone else was already up and about.

"How could you 'Ferre?!" Courfeyrac howled, throwing himself at Combeferre's back and clinging on like a sloth. "She only just moved in!"

"Ha ha, very funny Courf." Rolling his eyes, Combeferre reached round to poke Courfeyrac in the spot which made him flail helplessly and let go.

"Why are none of you dressed?" demanded Musichetta as she swept into the house, glaring round the five of them. "Chop chop, I don't have all day, I need to sort the ladies as well you know."

"I hate suits," Grantaire sighed, but he obeyed with the others none-the-less, appearing back in the lounge fifteen minutes later fully dressed, cravat in hand. "These bloody things are impossible to tie," he growled, throwing it on the sofa as he flopped into a chair.

"Don't you dare crease that suit until after pictures," Musichetta warned, descending upon him to straighten out cuffs and collars, tying his cravat quickly and neatly then sending him over to stand in a corner and wait for the others. Jehan and Courfeyrac fell into the room next, hair already mussed and the back of Courfeyrac's shirt untucked. Upon catching sight of the dressmaker's raised eyebrow the pair hurried to sort themselves out, Courfeyrac smiling weakly when she inspected they looked smart before sensibly separating them, Jehan joining Grantaire whilst Courfeyrac found himself next to the bookshelf. As expected, Combeferre needed nothing doing, entering the room dressed as smartly as Musichetta was going to send the others out, though to a lot more teasing, but Marius was shaking with nerves so much he couldn't even fasten his cufflinks, never mind tie a cravat.

The look Musichetta gave the five men was nothing short of terrifying.

"If one thing goes wrong in that church today, I'm holding the ushers personally responsible," she started, voice low and dangerous. "Courfeyrac I've already discussed the speech with you, Marius you will be fine so will you stop looking like you're going to be sick before Cosette sees you, Grantaire don't you dare drink too much and make a scene, try to avoid discussing philosophers Combeferre, and poetry does not need to be quoted at every single guest who enters the church Jehan because we'd quite like the service to start on time. Have I made myself clear?"

"Crystal," Courfeyrac beamed, giving her an elegant little half-bow. "May I escort you to the door?"

"Certainly sir," she smiled, making a small curtsey in return. "Then you may escort the groom to the church."

"She is fucking terrifying," Grantaire muttered once they'd left the room, and for once no-one argued with him.

* * *

"My dress won't fasten!" Cosette wailed the instant Musichette had stepped inside the bedroom, a very shellshocked looking Valjean having let her into the house. "I've grown too much. Oh this is all just going to be a disaster!"

"Will you sit still before I burn you with curling irons and it's a disaster because the bride is in hospital," Eponine snapped, though not unkindly, before going back to her job of sorting Cosette's hair.

"I planned for this," Musichetta soothed, fiddling with the dress for a few minutes. "Relax Cosette, it's all going to be fine."

"Knock knock," Enjolras called in from outside the room, tactfully keeping himself out of sight. "Is everyone decent?"

"Yes," Eponine replied, and he entered the room, Alana bouncing along beside him.

"Sorry we're a little late, she didn't sleep so great last night. Can't tell now from looking at her mind, if only we all had that much energy."

"I'll sort your dress in a minute sweetie, just let me finish Cosette's," Musichetta said to Alana with a soft smile, and Enjolras started backing away.

"I'll see you lovely ladies at the church," he said quickly, flashing them a smile before vanishing.

"Thought that might move him," the brunette laughed as she finished fettling the white gown. "Okay, you done 'Ponine? Great, let's get you in this then Cosette, and see if it needs anything else doing."

* * *

"Enjy!"

"It's bad enough Courf still calling me that, don't you start," Enjolras groaned as Feuilly joined him outside the church, a huge smirk on his face. "Where's Bahorel? I thought you two were car sharing today."

"Trying to park - traffic was a bitch so we got here a little late to nab any spaces." He shrugged when Enjolras glared at him. "What? I don't care if this is consecrated ground, I'm not Catholic."

"Me neither, but you still don't swear in church," Enjolras chastised.

"We're not in church yet!"

Their bickering continued as they made their way into the actual building, and although Feuilly didn't back down, he did make sure his language was child-friendly once inside the church itself.

"Now now gentlemen, no fighting in a holy building," Jehan said as poshly as he could, though he burst out laughing almost straight away, unable to keep a straight face. "Oh who am I kidding, you two aren't gentlemen and he certainly isn't!" The pair were saved from having to ask who he meant by Bahorel patting them on the back, both stumbling forwards a couple of steps.

"You look very smart Jehan," he grinned, accepting the order of service offered.

"And this looks too thick," Feuilly grumbled, but he otherwise stayed quiet as he flicked through it.

"Thanks," Enjolras said with an absentminded smile, eyes searching the church for someone else. "Holy fuck," he breathed suddenly, frozen in place from shock.

"Enjolras! Language!" Feuilly scolded, smirking once again.

"Musichetta did our suits," Jehan said lightly, handing an order of service to the next guest with a smile. "They're great, aren't they."

Enjolras gulped and almost ran off to find an empty pew, focusing on keeping his eyes away from Grantaire so he didn't stare.

"Bride's side," a low voice whispered next to his ear once he'd sat, and the blonde jumped, turning to see Combeferre standing there. "I mean, it's not like it'd make much of a difference with neither having much family, but Marius may want your support."

"He's barely spoken to me since I got back," Enjolras murmured, knowing his oldest friend could hear him. "You look good by the way. Loving the suits. Has Eponine seen you in that?"

"Not yet, no." Combeferre's eyes scanned the small church for anyone else who may need directing to a seat before coming back to rest on Enjolras again. "Let me guess, a certain dark-haired artist and his perfectly tailored suit are-"

"Stop talking right now," Enjolras said quickly, giving him a warning look. "Doesn't Marius look nervous."

"That has to be the worst attempt at changing the subject I have ever seen," Combeferre laughed, though he personally agreed that Marius did look sick from nerves. "Courfeyrac's waving me over, it must be about time to begin. We can talk about the fitted suits later," he teased as he walked away to join his fellow ushers, the three of them quickly earning their name by guiding any remaining people to their seats.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please stand," someone announced a few minutes later and Enjolras stood with everyone else, watching Grantaire, Combeferre and Jehan sneak onto a row near the back then glancing forward again at Marius's white face and Courfeyrac's hand clasped on his shoulder before looking to the back of the church once more when the music started. Alana appeared first, scattering petals from a basket clutched in one hand as she skipped down the aisle, and Enjolras felt prouder than ever before as he watched his daughter beam at everyone.

"Doesn't she just look adorable in that dress?" he heard a woman in front of him whisper to her friend, and the pride swelled in his chest. "That shade of pink suits her perfectly, and those ribbons in her hair."

Cosette entered next, a look of pure joy and contentment on her face as she stared down the aisle at Marius, whose face had lit up upon seeing her. Clutching tightly to her papa's arm the pair set off down after Alana, followed by Eponine and Musichette, one of whom was smiling at her boyfriend whilst the other kept an eye on the bride's train. Enjolras chuckled quietly when he saw Valjean murmur something to Marius upon reaching him, guessing that either the old man was passing on one more threat or accepting the terrified young man as his son.

Most of the service just washed over Enjolras and he was happy to let it do so, never having been a fan of organised religion, but he sat up and paid attention when he came to the exchange of vows. Cosette sounded more like a lark than ever when repeating the words, her high voice making everyone smile. To the surprise of all those who knew Marius (who hadn't earned the name of puppy for nothing) he didn't stammer once when it was his turn, instead speaking in a loud clear voice, conviction present for everyone to see. All of the friends laughed when Bahorel let out a whoop when Marius said "I do", Valjean twisting in his chair to glare at the man who had dared to interrupt his daughter's wedding. The culprit simply smiled back innocently, settling back next to Feuilly who tried to duck out of Valjean's view.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," the priest announced. "You may now kiss the bride."

Touching Cosette's cheek softly, Marius leant in for a quick kiss which Cosette managed to deepen, her hand sliding up his arms to the back of his neck effectively stopping him from moving away. He pulled back blushing when Courfeyrac wolf-whistled, Cosette simply laughing and grinning at everyone.

"The signing of the registry will now take place." Cosette took Marius's hand lightly as the couple followed the priest through to the vestry where the registrar was waiting.

"Don't they look happy," a voice breathed into Enjolras's ear and he froze, not turning to face the owner.

"Happy? I'd say radiant is closer to the truth," he said softly, still looking forwards at the choir he wasn't listening to.

"True, true. Your daughter is picking up plenty of compliments as well. All compliments are correct of course, she really does look "totally cute" and "adorable" and "just the sweetest little thing ever". Although I should warn you, half the people near us think she's Cosette's."

"Shouldn't you still be sat at the back with the other ushers?" Enjolras replied, finally allowing himself to look at the man now sitting next to him, Grantaire's expression carefully controlled when he heard the question.

"You looked lonely," he said shortly, glancing round the church at all the other people now chatting. "I thought you'd be sat with someone."

"I sat down without thinking," Enjolras explained. He was having to fight to keep his eyes focused on Grantaire's face instead of them slipping downwards - the suit really did fit and suit him better than anything he remembered his friend wearing, and it was turning out to be quite distracting. "What else do you have to do today?"

"Pass on directions to anyone who doesn't know how to get to the hotel for the reception, help direct people to the right tables when at the hotel, and not get too drunk." He winked at Enjolras when he said that. "Who's Alana going with, you or the bridesmaids?"

"'Ponine and 'Chetta, they've kidnapped her for the day now. We're all staying overnight, so I probably won't see her till either she's ready to sleep or possibly even breakfast tomorrow morning."

"So you're driving out there alone as well?" Enjolras nodded. "You really are going to be lonely, the drive is over an hour!"

"If you're so worried about me going stir-crazy stuck on my own, you're welcome to come with me." The offer had left Enjolras's mouth before he'd even thought about what he'd said.

"Does that offer extend to all four of us?" Combeferre butted in, leaning over from the pew behind. "Because we all walked up here and walking back home will just take too long."

"Yeah, sure, why not," Enjolras shrugged, pretending to not notice the look of disappointment on Grantaire's face, and pretending also that he wasn't feeling the same himself. "You can all give me directions when I get lost."

"If everyone would please stand whilst Mr and Mrs Pontmercy leave."

The announcement had Combeferre and Grantaire scurrying back to their seats and Enjolras stood unthinkingly, mind still concentrating on the man who had just been sat close to him.

* * *

The drive was long and boisterous and Enjolras was glad when he finally pulled up outside the hotel, insulting Courfeyrac as he did so.

"This is the last time I ever listen to you and your directions. 'Ooh, let's go this way, it's a short cut, I promise'." He glared at the apologetic man in the rear-view mirror. "Yeah flipping right it was."

"Warned you," Combeferre mumbled, almost falling in his hurry to get out of the car.

"God I'm starving," Grantaire added, hurrying after them. "Pictures took forever, and add that on to Courf's crap navigating and we're probably way too late for anyone's liking. We warned you that having him in the front was a bad idea."

"But put him in the back and there'd have been a make-out session starting," Enjolras pointed out. No-one argued, not even Jehan or Courfeyrac, who simply shrugged and grinned.

"There you are! Enjolras, your daughter wants you. Boys, you're supposed to be ushering, so go usher." They all rushed inside the hotel when Musichetta called over to them from the front door, Enjolras the only one to stop next to her.

"Thank you," he murmured softly, making sure no-one was near enough to hear him. "Alana's dress looks amazing, as do all the other dresses, and the suits are... Well, let's just leave it at thanks." He almost blushed at her knowing smile and carried on inside, sweeping Alana up into his arms when she ran over.

"Daddy daddy, did you see me?"

"You were perfect," he assured her, kissing her hair and hugging her to him. "Did you behave for 'Chetta and Eponine in the car?" He smiled when she nodded firmly, then placed her back on the ground when she demanded to be put down.

"You missed the free drinks," Bahorel informed him when he joined him, Feuilly, Joly and Bossuet at the bar, laughing when Enjolras filled them all in on the journey's problems. "You idiot."

"I know," he said glumly, glancing round at the rapidly emptying room. "And I'm starving. Let's go."

* * *

It was a nice change, Enjolras decided, to be able to eat with his friend's again, without Alana chattering away in his ear. Not a change he'd want happening too often, as he loved listening to his daughter most days, but one he was enjoying today. The five friends had a small table near to the top table and were content to sit there laughing together, occasionally pulling faces at Courfeyrac and Grantaire whenever Valjean was facing the other way or talking to someone.

"Where's Marius's grandfather?" Enjolras murmured in Bossuet's ear, finally noticing that the old man was missing.

"Abroad," the bald man replied just as quietly. "You remember how he was always a bit of a jerk?"

"Bit?" Enjolras said incredulously, but he let Bossuet continue.

"Well, when they invited him he announced that marrying for love was "stupid" and "would never work in a thousand years", and that he was on a holiday which had been booked for months and therefore he couldn't be present. The amazing thing was that the last statement was true. Marius's aunt cut her holiday short to be present though."

"Lea Prince always was the decent one left in that house," Enjolras sighed, watching his friend laughing with his new wife, his aunt chatting away to Valjean happily.

"Speech!" Feuilly and Bahorel called out together when Courfeyrac stood a few moments later, and an evil grin crossed his face. "Speech speech speech speech speech!" the chant went up from the rest of the Amis as well, and he laughed.

"As best man, I have to make a speech," he announced. "I think this was what Marius was so nervous about earlier. I mean, marrying Cosette is what Marius was born to do, but he never could predict anything I was going to do, and the idea of me telling embarrassing stories to the lot of you probably still terrifies him." Marius nodded as everyone laughed, and Cosette kissed his cheek lightly. "Well, I'll try not to tell too many then.

"I first met Marius eight years ago, in our first week of university. We shared three lectures on law, and I'm proud to announce that neither of us is actually a lawyer - though in Marius's defence, that's not entirely his fault. But that is going into a whole other story for which we don't have enough time.

"My first thoughts on Marius were that he was a bit of an idiot but a harmless one. Oh, and that he was a puppy. And on whether it was actually possible for an eighteen year old to be that naive. For those of you who don't know him well, it is." He paused while the laughter spread round the room. "When we found our own place he moved in with us, even though he ended up rooming with me poor boy, and that was us until he met Cosette.

"I don't know how much you've heard about that Cosette, but he walked into the house that night looking like he was walking on air. It was most definitely love at first sight, whether you believe in that or not, and I knew then he'd marry the poor girl if she'd let him. For some crazy reason, she fell in love with him too, and here we are now.

"For almost the past seven years, they have been the perfect couple. They've managed to stay together through thick and thin, no matter what life threw at them, and seeing as they've lived together for six and a half of those years, I've no doubt they'll last forever.

"So there you go Marius. A reasonably sensible speech for me really, nothing to be worried about at all. So, ladies and gentlemen, if you would all please raise your glasses and join me in a toast to the puppy and the lark. Marius and Cosette!"

The entire room stood and, as one, repeated, "The puppy and the lark!" making the newly-weds blush prettily.

"My turn," Valjean said softly, though just loud enough for everyone to hear him. He kept his wine glass in his hand as he stood to speak, and smiled down at his adopted daughter lovingly. "I never thought I'd have children, never having married and being far too old to bother with anything like that, but I have loved Cosette as if she were my own from the very first moment and she is now my everything. I am proud to be called her papa, and as such I was incredibly protective when I first heard of the young whippersnapper daring to be her boyfriend."

It was impossible not to laugh at the wince Marius gave at that, clearly remembering some past talks with his father-in-law.

"It took months for me to trust him with my darling Cosette, but I have to admit I'm glad I finally did. Marius makes my daughter happy, which I suppose is all that matters in the end, and yes, after all this time, I am happy to call this young man my son-in-law. And, partly on threat from my daughter and also because he's heard it before, I won't finish this speech with warnings about what I'll do if he hurts her. Instead, I'd like to propose a toast. To everlasting love and happiness."

The toast echoed round the room and Cosette beamed at her father before kissing Marius.

"Speech from the groom!" Joly shouted to numerous cheers, though the looks coming from Marius were much more like glares.

"This was love from first sight and will last forever and thank you all for coming," he babbled quickly, trying to get it over with as soon as possible. "My toast is simple: to Cosette, the love of my life. I know you will make a wonderful mother to our child."

Silence followed his words and everyone's flickered first to Cosette then to Valjean, who's face was darkening.

"And now the dancing can start!" Courfeyrac shouted quickly, motioning for Combeferre to distract Valjean while Grantaire and Jehan hurried Marius out of the room.

"Bloody hell," Feuilly breathed, leaning back in his chair. "Good old Marius and his runaway mouth."

"You mean you hadn't guessed?"

As one, the whole table turned to stare at Enjolras.

"I'll take that as a no then."

"You had?" Joly demanded, leaning forwards.

"Well sure." Enjolras shrugged. "At least, I was assuming she was. For starters, the wedding was originally next year but was brought forwards to this summer for no apparent reason. Then there was the comment she made one day about how looking after Alana was good practice for them all, then last week she told Marius he'd be a great dad. And this morning when I dropped Allie off 'Chetta was letting out her dress whilst Cosette worried about whether it would fit because she'd grown."

"I'll tell you one person who definitely didn't know Cosette had a bun in the oven out of wedlock," Bahorel laughed. "Her dear old papa."

"Poor Marius," Bossuet said sympathetically.

"Why aren't you in the other room dancing?" Courfeyrac demanded, appearing between Bahorel and Joly. "Stop gossiping like a group of old maids and get in there now, before Cosette's old man explodes."

"We're going," Feuilly said hurriedly, practically dragging Bahorel up and away. The four watched them go before Courfeyrac commented.

"Are we really sure they're both straight?"

* * *

It took Courfeyrac next to no time to find Jehan amidst the dancers, pressing up close behind his boyfriend as he wrapped his arms around the poet and hugged him, still moving to the music as he did so.

"If we get married, I want a proper first dance," Jehan announced, squirming round to face Courfeyrac and throwing his arms round his neck, kissing him deeply. Pulling back slightly Courfeyrac stared down at him in shock for a moment before kissing him again, harder and more passionately this time. Jehan grinned and practically moulded their bodies together, all thoughts of dancing vanished as lips and tongues moved against each other.

"Is that a proposal?" Courfeyrac breathed against the poet's lips as they parted for a second.

"Are you saying yes?" was Jehan's only reply.

Courfeyrac looked him in the eye for the moment and said nothing, until he suddenly grabbed Jehan's hand and pulled away, dragging the other man after him.

"Our bed needs checking," he threw over his shoulder, making Jehan's eyes light up.

All who were staying the night and saw them leave decided that they'd probably best leave it a while before heading upstairs.

* * *

"Marius is an idiot," Eponine sighed as she rested her head on Combeferre's chest, his arms encircling her tightly as they swayed in time to the music. "Cosette was planning on telling Valjean when they got back from the honeymoon. Today was certainly not the time to inform everyone."

"He was scared and didn't think," Combeferre replied softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. "He's like that when he's round Valjean, and I personally don't blame him."

"Doesn't stop him from being an idiot."

"Hey." Tilting Eponine's chin up with one finger, Combeferre dropped a kiss onto her lips. "Please remember this is the man you used to be in love with. And besides, I'm not here to talk about Marius, even if it is his wedding. Right this minute, I just want to dance with you. Can I do that?"

"I love you," Eponine laughed quietly, kissing down his jaw.

"And that is sadly not suitable when there are kids around," he murmured, fighting back a low moan. "And I refuse to do a Courfeyrac and carry you off to our room so early."

"Courf dragged Jehan. There was no carrying involved." With an evil twinkle in her eye, Eponine nipped lightly with her next kiss, smoothing over it with her tongue next moment and winning the moan of pleasure she was after.

"I'm not Courfeyrac," he whispered, kissing her desperately as he swung her up into her arms and headed out of the room. "I can be a gentleman." Pausing, he looked down at her and smirked. "Although I will admit, that may not be the right word for the moment."

"Just shut up and kiss me," Eponine growled, reaching up to meet his lips as he set off again, only parting so as to unlock their room and kick the door shut before collapsing onto the bed together.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Marius whispered for the thirtieth time that song alone, staring worriedly into his wife's eyes. "I really am. I know you meant to tell him later, it just sort of... slipped out."

"Marius, for the last time - it doesn't matter. Papa will get over me being pregnant already. I'm perfectly happy with the fact, and you've said you are, so what more is there to worry about? We're married now, and I love you."

"But-"

"No buts Marius." Cosette's tone of voice left no room for argument.

"No buts? But Marius has a nice butt," Musichetta teased as Joly twirled her past the couple and Cosette laughed when her husband blushed.

"You're cute when you blush," she told him with a smile. "In fact, you're just cute full stop husband."

"And you're just drop-dead gorgeous." He smirked. "Wife."

"Now let's go talk to my father."

The smile faded instantly from the freckled face. "He'll kill me."

"Oh don't be such a wimp Pontmercy!"

* * *

"We have got to stop dancing next to each other!" Bahorel yelled at Feuilly over the music, and his smaller friend nodded.

"Agreed! All the girls probably think we're gay."

"Last one to get a dance partner pays for drinks?"

"You're on!"

Bahorel really didn't get what all the girls saw in Feuilly he decided later, watching his best friend twirl a blonde round the room. The curly-haired man had had his choice of about five attractive women before choosing the one he was with, and whilst Bahorel hadn't exactly struggled finding a partner, he was most definitely shelling out the cash that night.

"Fine," he growled when they ended up dancing near each other again. "But next time I'll win."

Sweeping his partner away, he started the ever important task of finding out just what were her views on one-night stands.

* * *

"Come dance with us Bossuet," Musichetta pleaded, Joly's hand held tightly in her's as they stared hopefully at their boyfriend.

"No thank you," Bossuet refused, running a hand over his bald patch as he lent backwards in his chair. "I've already almost sprained my ankle, I am not dancing again tonight."

"But even Enjolras is dancing!" Joly squeaked in shock, pointing over to where Enjolras was laughing and dancing in a small circle with his daughter, holding out one arm for her to twirl under it.

"My answer won't change. Besides, it's easier to dance with only two and I like watching you. You make a fine couple, now go enjoy yourselves. I'm happy here - trust me." And picking up his beer, Bossuet refused to budge.

As the music changed to something slower, he watched Musichetta and Joly move closer together then noticed Enjolras and Alana heading towards him, Enjolras looking exhausted.

"This seat taken?" he asked, flopping down into it when Bossuet shook his head. Alana jumped up onto his knee and tucked her head under his chin as she hugged him, clearly just as tired.

"Not often we get to see you dance," Bossuet commented quietly. "In fact, I dare say it's the first time."

"When you have a small child, you find you suddenly have to learn to love to dance," Enjolras smiled, and Bossuet found himself smiling just at seeing his friend so happy with life. The blonde's smile soon faded though when he saw Grantaire move past with a woman drapped in his arms, and his eyes followed them silently round the room.

"Those suits really do suit them well," Bossuet said knowingly, glancing over to see if his words were illiciting any kind of reaction. "'Chetta did a good job with them, 'Taire's had both women and men all over him all night. Not that he couldn't get them normally, but that suit is showing off stuff he normally manages to hide."

"Are you planning on dancing?" Enjolras suddenly interrupted with as he heard the song starting to come to an end.

"Not for the rest of the night, no. Want me to look after Alana for you?"

"You are a mind-reader and an absolute star," Enjolras said quickly, transferring his almost-asleep daughter to his friend's knee before standing and quickly straightening his suit. "I'll see you later."

Striding across the floor, Enjolras tapped Grantaire on the shoulder as the next song began.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, expression serious as he waited for the woman still holding Grantaire's arm to get the message. She finally seemed to understand when Grantaire's face lit up and he fully turned to face Enjolras, her face falling slightly as she walked away to join her friends.

"How could I refuse a god come down to join us mortals?" Grantaire replied with a small smile curving his lips upwards, offering his hand to Enjolras. "You know, I have never seen you dance," he continued, moving round the room slowly with Enjolras, neither of them fully leading or following but moving together. "Alana has done you a lot of good."

"She has indeed," Enjolras agreed, but then his mouth was next to Grantaire's ear and the artist almost forgot how to breath as he whispered, "And I am not the god in this room oh Dionysus."

It took Grantaire all of two seconds to find a corridor and pull Enjolras into it, pressing him against the wall and resting a hand either side of his head as he studied his face. Leaning forwards Enjolras crashed his lips against Grantaire's in a desperate and passionate kiss that was all teeth and tongue, but neither of them cared because they had been waiting for this moment for so long. Enjolras swallowed Grantaire's moan as he fisted his hands in the dark curls, tugging slightly to make him moan even more, the sound obscene against his mouth.

"Why the fuck did you cut your hair again?" Grantaire groaned as his own hands ran through Enjolras's short neat hair, messing up his styling completely.

"Because it was conferences," Enjolras explained breathlessly, "and I had to look smart. Does it really matter?"

Pushing forwards and spinning so that it was now Grantaire back up against the wall, Enjolras leant against him and kissed down his neck, rolling his hips slightly as Grantaire bucked up into him, gasping.

"I have wanted to do this all day," Enjolras murmured between kisses, occasionally nipping and sucking in a spot until he'd marked Grantaire out as his. "Ever since I first saw you in church in that suit. You look too damn hot in this thing."

"You don't look so bad yourself," came the halting reply, Grantaire's hands resting on his waist and pulling him even closer still, his lips searching out Enjolras's again. Jackets hit the floor moments later, swiftly followed by cravat and tie, and Enjolras's fingers were already unfastening the first few buttons of Grantaire's shirt when he suddenly stopped. Pulling back ever so slightly Enjolras rested his forehead against Grantaire's, breathing heavily.

"Stop," he whispered. "We can't go further. Not tonight."

"Why not?" Grantaire's eyes were dark with lust, and he was having a hard time thinking straight.

"Alana."

"...Damn, you're right." He flopped his head back against the wall and sighed. "Bugger."

"That offer to dance is still open though."

Grantaire's eyes met Enjolras's and they cracked up together, though neither really knew why they were laughing.

"Here, help me tie this bloody thing," Grantaire ordered as he picked up his cravat, throwing the tie at Enjolras as he did so. Once they looked almost decent again they headed back out into the main room, and although both men's hair was severely messed up and Grantaire had red marks down his neck neither cared. They were too wrapped up in each other to notice the stares they were getting or the comments, or even the loud "Yes!" from Bahorel accompanied by a sighing Feuilly handing the wager money over. The only thing which split the two men up that night was Musichetta, who walked over and tapped Enjolras on the shoulder before inquiring when he was going to collect his daughter so she could have one of her boyfriends back, because even if Bossuet didn't mind she wanted to go to bed.

"I'll see you in the morning," Grantaire murmured with a smile, leaning up and kissing Enjolras softly. "Go see to Alana."

Waiting until Enjolras had managed to scoop Alana up without waking her and had left the room still carrying her, Grantaire let a huge grin settle across his face and shouted "YES!" even louder than Bahorel had a couple of hours before. As he walked through the hall and up the stairs to his own room it was as if he were in a dream. Nothing could go wrong for him on that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear not, this is not the end. Or, if you're sick of this particular and after the end, feel free to take it as that. But I still have plenty more ideas for this particular story.


	17. I Have No Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac and Jehan have an important discussion, Grantaire offers to help Enjolras, and Enjolras gets a letter he wasn't expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as ever, apologies for the slow reply. College is a bitch, with far too many essays, work is getting busier again, and I concussed myself at work this weekend ('cause I'm clever like that). Future replies could also be slow I'm afraid, due to the fact that as of tomorrow, I am in charge of my very own Rainbow Patrol (Daisy Scouts if you're American, not 100% sure on other countries) and it is incredibly hard work trying to think up plans to keep twenty five-year-olds entertained for an hour. Plus, the ends of college and exams are coming up. But enough excuses. I promise to do what I can to update as often as possible.

Jehan was surprised just how early he woke that morning. Whilst he had always used to be an early riser, since he had begun dating Courfeyrac the poet had come to enjoy lazy mornings in bed, wrapped around his boyfriend. The day after the wedding however, Jehan woke with the dawn, smiling joyfully at those rays of pale light which the curtain couldn't stop from slanting in through the window.

"Courf?" he whispered, poking his still-sleeping boyfriend. "Wake up."

"Mmmf," Courfeyrac sighed, snuggling closer into Jehan's side.

"Wake up," Jehan repeated, more forcefully this time.

"What time is it?" the older man mumbled.

"Six."

"Wha' the hell you doin' waking me up at this time?" he groaned, refusing to open his eyes.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"What about?"

"Will you open your eyes? Please?"

Squinting at the light, which was far too bright for his tired eyes, Courfeyrac did his best to glare at his boyfriend but couldn't manage it for long.

"What about?" he asked again.

"Last night..." Jehan hesitated then sighed. "Something was mentioned. Before we came upstairs. When we were dancing. Well, more making out than dancing, but you know when I mea-"

"I know," Courf interrupted, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes so as to see Jehan more clearly. "Go on."

"Well, I wanted to know how... serious that talk was." Jehan had to take a deep breath halfway through the sentence, his nerves almost getting the better of him. Courfeyrac considered his lover for a moment before placing a single finger against his lips and shushing him when Jehan tried to say something else. Rolling off the bed, Courfeyrac dropped down to one knee and kept his finger in place, running a finger from his other hand down Jehan's cheek.

"Jean Prouvaire," he started, ignoring Jehan's gasp. "I love you. Hopefully you love me too. If you don't, then this will probably be a very short conversation, but oh well. Here goes nothing." He paused and sighed. "Oh fuck it. I really don't know what to say now. You deserve something sweet and romantic, not me muddling along without any plans whatsoever. You deserve me to have try something like I did to ask you out, only that means wasting time thinking something up, and we wouldn't get that time back. So, seeing as these words seemed to work last time, how about it?" He grinned nervously at Jehan. "Just marry me already."

"Yes!" Jehan squealed the second Courfeyrac lifted his finger from his lips, throwing his arms round Courfeyrac's neck and kissing him deeply.

"Oh my god!" Courfeyrac gasped when he pulled back, staring at Jehan. "We're actually getting _married_! And I don't have a ring! Oh god I gotta find you one! I promise, you won't have to wait long. I'll find you the perfect one, I promise." Pulling Jehan closer, he kissed him again. "God I love you."

* * *

"So he sort of proposed last night?" Enjolras asked, looking from Courfeyrac to Jehan, who had just entered the room.

"Yeah," Courfeyrac nodded.

"And then you proposed fully today."

"That's right."

"No ring? I hope Jehan gave you hell for that," Eponine laughed, poking Courfeyrac as she passed on her way to the breakfast buffet.

"I'm buying him one tomorrow," Courfeyrac promised, grabbing Jehan round the waist and pulling him in for a long kiss as the younger man walked by. Their laughter echoed round the dining room of the hotel as Jehan pleaded hunger until Courfeyrac let him go.

"How come it took you so long to get round to asking him?" Enjolras continued with the questions. "I mean, you obviously love him. You should have asked him sooner."

"It took him over six months to ask the guy out," Grantaire pointed out as he joined their table, pointedly not sitting next to Enjolras but next to Alana instead, ruffling her hair as he did so.

"If you're going to court someone like Jehan, especially when you've decided to go down the secret admirer route, then you have to do things properly. No half-measures for my love."

"But six months? Surely that is a little extreme," Enjolras said incredulously.

"You never even said anything when you gave him two tickets for Cats and he asked you to go with him."

"And this is Jehan and his favourite musical, he wouldn't just have asked anyone."

"Will the pair of you quit ganging up on me," Courfeyrac protested, glaring at them both.

"We'll consider it," Grantaire grinned, setting to emptying his plate as soon as he'd finished speaking.

"Shall we change the subject slightly?" Jehan asked as he slipped into the seat next to Grantaire, leaving the two free chairs at the other side of the table for Combeferre and Eponine and graciously taking the one on its own, even though it meant he couldn't sit next to his fiance. He continued speaking, poking the marks on Grantaire's neck lightly as he did so. "Looks like someone had some fun last night."

"Shurrup," Grantaire mumbled with his mouth full, not looking up. "It's not what it looks like."

"So you didn't get laid last night?" Courfeyrac laughed.

"Courf! Watch what you're saying," Enjolras snapped, looking pointedly at Alana who, thankfully, wasn't paying much attention.

"Sorry mate. But you gotta admit, they weren't there yesterday. Either Grantaire found someone to have fun with, or he got attacked by a strangler."

"It's nothing," Grantaire muttered, finishing his breakfast in record time and jumping to his feet. "I'm going for a shower. See you guys later."

If Courfeyrac and Jehan noticed Enjolras watching him leave, a slightly guilty look on his face, they said nothing.

"Those two are going to be sickeningly romantic for a while," Combeferre mumbled when Eponine had finished filling her plate, glancing over at the table they were about to join.

"Oh shush you. It's sweet." She smiled at him when he gave her a small glare, though he couldn't keep it up and it soon faded into a smile of his own as he leant over to kiss her softly.

"Okay, maybe, but I never said that," he conceded.

The raucous song Bahorel started singing moments later when Marius and Cosette interrupted their conversation, the newly weds blushing furiously but still laughing along with their friends. When it was quiet enough for them to hear each other again, though while they were still alone, Combeferre continued their conversation softly.

"Do you mind if we give 'Taire a lift home? We came with Enjolras, only the pair of them have been acting funny the whole time we've been down here, barely talking this morning, and I'm not sure leaving them trapped in a car with the tactless wonder would be the best idea."

"Course he can come with us," Eponine said firmly. "Now come on, I'd quite like to eat before my bacon goes cold."

* * *

"Shotgun!" Courfeyrac yelled the second they were out of the hotel, charging towards the car. He almost slammed into the car, only just managing to slow down in time, and pouted over at Enjolras when the passenger door wouldn't open.

"Jehan's shotgun," Enjolras said firmly. "For two reasons. One, your directions suck. Two, I need to talk to him. Quietly."

"Did anyone notice who caught the bouquet?" Jehan asked absentmindedly, Alana's hand clutched tightly in his as he made his way down the front steps towards them.

"Eponine," Courfeyrac laughed. "Bahorel was telling me. Apparently it was thrown before we arrived. You should have seen the look on 'Ferre's face when he found out."

"Where's Grantaire?" Enjolras asked suddenly, remembering his offer to the artist and looking round. "I thought I was giving him a lift as well."

"He's heading back with Combeferre and Eponine." Courfeyrac shrugged. "I didn't argue, just figured it's more space for us."

"You're definitely in the back then."

"What are we talking about?" Jehan asked after Enjolras had strapped Alana in and was walking round to the driver's door. "Grantaire?" Enjolras didn't reply out loud but just nodded. "What's the problem?"

Enjolras waited a few minutes before replying, setting off driving and letting Courfeyrac get distracted by entertaining Alana before he spoke.

"We kissed last night," he said softly, keeping his voice low. "He looked too damn fine in that suit and I couldn't stop myself from asking him to dance because there were too many other people in his arms on that floor. And then when we were dancing... Well I kinda made a reply to his comment on me being a god, and after he'd pulled me into a corridor I kissed him. Hence the marks you noticed on his neck this morning."

"You too seemed sort of cool to each other this morning, to say you were making out last night," Jehan pointed out.

"I bumped into him this morning before we came down for breakfast. I, ah, well, I sort of asked him if we could take things slow," Enjolras admitted, risking a glance over to catch his friend's reaction. Jehan's jaw had dropped at the words and he stared at Enjolras disbelievingly.

"Are you kidding?" he demanded, only just remembering to keep his voice quiet. "Tell me you didn't."

"I don't want to rush things," Enjolras protested. "I mean, we rushed things a little last time and things fell apart. I don't want that to happen again."

"You bloody idiot," Jehan hissed, forcibly stopping himself from shouting. "You finally kiss him then tell him you want to take things _slow_? Those hickeys on his neck are not signs of wanting to take things slow, Enjolras. You need to apologise to him. I mean it."

"Look, this conversation isn't for you to judge me," Enjolras snapped quietly. "It's because I need your advice. So if you want to continue criticising my every action, feel free, but I promise you I will stop listening."

"Advice on what?" Jehan asked finally.

"How to woo Grantaire."

Jehan grinned excitedly, all thoughts of how stupid Enjolras was shooting out of his head. He started babbling away, bringing forth every romantic idea he could think of until eventually Enjolras had to zone out or risk losing his mind to the sheer cheesiness of some of the plans. Courfeyrac figured out what they were talking about after Alana dozed off so chipped in with his own suggestions, most of which were even worse than Jehan's.

"Thanks," Enjolras sighed as he pulled up outside their house. "I'll have a think about those."

"No problem," Jehan said cheerfully, neither man realising that Enjolras had stopped listening fifteen minutes previous.

* * *

It was only when the Monday morning dawned that Enjolras realised he'd forgotten to make plans for who was going to pick Alana up from nursery that afternoon, and he cursed silently  as he started searching for his mobile, hoping someone would be free.

"It's on the side," a voice from behind him said, amusement clear to hear, and Enjolras span to see Grantaire standing in the hallway.

"What?" he said dumbly, Grantaire laughing at his tone.

"It's on the side," he repeated, pointing at the kitchen counter. "Over there."

"Thanks," Enjolras mumbled, grabbing it and starting typing furiously. "You do realise there's only you and Cosette let yourselves into this place, even though everyone has keys," he continued conversationally, trying to pretend everything was normal. "How come you're here?"

"To solve one of your problems." Looking up from the phone, Enjolras raised one eyebrow at Grantaire.

"Explain."

"Cosette is in France for two weeks. You need someone to look after Alana during that time whilst you're in work. I'm the logical choice." He continued quickly when Enjolras looked ready to interrupt. "You can't deny it Apollo. I still haven't been able to find a job, so apart from baking at the cafe and occasionally painting I am practically never busy. I'm good with kids, or so everyone keeps telling me. Me and Allie get on well together. Besides, everyone else is working today so you haven't really a lot of choice."

Enjolras considered Grantaire for a few minutes.

"She finishes nursery at three," he said finally, closing his phone and dropping it into his pocket. "And likes to go to the park for a little bit before heading home. Oh, and ever have so much as one drop of alcohol around my daughter and-"

"There's no need for threats," Grantaire interrupted quickly. "I get the idea. No drinking when around kids. Well duh. I thought you trusted me."

"I do, I just..." Enjolras sighed and shrugged. "She's my daughter. I'm allowed to be overprotective."

"And you're going to be late for work," Grantaire pointed out suddenly, nodding over at the clock.

"It can wait five minutes." Enjolras looked Grantaire in the eye. "So why are you here? I know I pissed you off the other day."

"That's because you were bang out of line," Grantaire snapped. "You don't kiss someone like that then tell them you want to take things slow. Yes, we have issues we need to sort out. You think I don't know that? But maybe next time you should try not almost fucking me before suggesting that."

"Language," Enjolras said automatically. "Or I'll wash your mouth out with soap."

"I'd like to see you try," Grantaire smirked. "And as for why I'm here... Well maybe I just want to help. Honestly. And you really do have to leave now before you're late for work."

"Then thanks," Enjolras said softly. Picking up his keys, he hesitated as he passed Grantaire, as if tempted to kiss his cheek before sighing again. "I'll see you this afternoon then. Thank you again."

"Not a problem. And hey. I'm up for taking things slow." Grantaire smiled slightly, the smile becoming real when Alana ran into the room and he could drop the awkward conversation. "Hey princess. I'm looking after you for a while, instead of Cosette. Gonna say goodbye to your dad before he goes to work?"

"Bye bye daddy," she said as she threw her arms around Enjolras's waist, hugging him tightly.

"Bye Allie," he said fondly, bending and kissing her forehead. "Be good for 'Taire."

* * *

Both Grantaire and Alana loved the next week. By the time the second week of the honeymoon was starting, Grantaire was starting to wonder if Cosette and Enjolras would agree to him looking after Alana more often, the girl having wormed her way even further into his heart.

The day Grantaire gave in to Courfeyrac's pleading and spent his afternoon busking at the cafe to raise money for Cosette and her father's latest charity ("Girl Guiding and Scouting are very important organisations which are not only fun but also keep our children off the streets and out of trouble"), he arrived at the nursery ten minutes late, guitar case slung over his back.

"Sorry sorry sorry," he apologised to Alana's teacher as he rushed into the room. "I had to wait for two trains to go before I could get over the level crossing, and I swear they put the barriers down about ten minutes before the train actually appears."

"I know exactly what you mean," Helen Robson sympathised, turning and calling for Alana to get her coat. "How long is Cosette away for now?"

"Another week yet. It's gonna be quiet not looking after Alana so much once she's back."

"I'll bet." She nodded at the guitar case. "You got any more shows coming up?"

"You heard about the last one?" he asked, surprised.

"I live near the Musain. You were good."

"Thanks," Grantaire blushed, grateful when Alana skipped over and he had an excuse to mutter his goodbyes and escape the classroom.

"What's on your back?" Alana asked once they were walking back to the flat, pointing at his guitar case.

"It's a case, with a guitar inside it."

"What's a guitar?"

Grantaire quickly explained.

"Will you play it for me?"

He couldn't help but smile.

"'Course I will kiddo," he promised, already working his way through all the songs he knew for something suitable.

"Now?" she begged once they were in the house, tugging him into the lounge. Pulling the case off his back and opening it, Grantaire let her examine the guitar carefully before he sat crosslegged on the floor and started playing.

He worked his way through a few nursery rhymes first, Alana singing along happily to the likes of E-I-E-I-O, the Hokey Cokey and Shaun the Sheep (her current favourite TV show), before he started on one of his own songs. Alana listened quietly at first, but soon jumped to her feet and danced around, demanding Grantaire sing it again once he'd finished, joining in with the words for the noises of the toy this time.

_When I was just a wee little lad full of health and joy_  
 _My father homeward came one night and gave to me a toy_  
 _A wonder to behold, it was, with many colors bright_  
 _And the moment I laid eyes on it, it became my heart's delight_

_It went "zip" when it moved and "bop" when it stopped_  
 _And "whirr" when it stood still_  
 _I never knew just what it was and I guess I never will._

_The first time that I picked it up, I had a big surprise_  
 _For right on it's bottom were two big buttons that_  
 _Looked like big green eyes._  
 _I first pushed one and then the other, and then I twisted its lid_  
 _And when I set it down again, this is what it did:_

_It first marched left and then marched right_  
 _And then marched under a chair_  
 _And when l looked where it had gone, it wasn't even there:_  
 _I started to sob and my daddy laughed, for he knew that I would find,_  
 _When l turned around, my marvelous toy, chugging from behind._

_Well, the years have gone by too quickly, it seems,_  
 _I'd like my own little boy_  
 _And one day I would give to him my marvelous little toy._  
 _His eyes would pop right out of his head_  
 _And he'd give a squeal of glee,_  
 _And neither one of us would know just what it is,_  
 _but he'd love it, just like me._

Unknown to them both, Enjolras was standing in the doorway watching, just out of their line of sight. The soft smile on his face refused to fade as Alana twirled round one last time and flopped into Grantaire's lap, the dark-haired man moving the guitar just in time.

"Love you Uncle R," she mumbled, pulling a teddy from nearby towards her and hugging it as she started to drift off to sleep, the dancing having worn her out.

"Love you too kiddo," Grantaire murmured in reply, pushing her hair out of her eyes and meaning every word.

Enjolras's breath caught slightly in his throat and he had to move away before he let himself start crying.

 _'Okay,'_ he told himself silently. _'That definitely means a lot. I definitely love him. And he's won Alana's heart. I have to make a move now. Soon. And he wants kids. I never knew that. All these years and I never knew that.'_

Before he could talk himself into just walking into the room and asking Grantaire out, Enjolras caught sight of the letters Grantaire had placed on the side upon arriving at the flat that afternoon. The writing on the top envelope was so familiar when Enjolras moved closer to look that he almost threw it straight into the bin unopened. Instead, he took a deep breath, forced his hands to stop shaking and slowly ripped it open, pulling the letter out and smoothing it out before starting to read.

 _Enjolras,_ it read. _Your mother and I were most disappointed by the way you treated her last month, and also that it took you quite so long to inform us of the birth of our granddaughter. The fact that you are still unmarried is one that distresses us both and your mother implores you to contact this woman again and extend your hand in marriage. I am warning you now that we will not accept a bastard into this family. I put up with your teenage rebellion when you wasted a year screwing that useless drunkard, I will not put up with this. You were brought up in religion, do not throw that away lightly. The sodomy was bad enough but God will forgive you one sin. He will not forgive two. Come back to us and the church with your wife and then, and only then, will I call you my child. Until then, I have no son._

_Be sensible._

_David Molloy_

"Apollo? Apollo, look at me."

Grantaire's voice finally sank through to Enjolras and he looked up at his friend helplessly. It was only know that he realised how tightly he was holding the paper, his knuckles white as his hands shook.

"The bastard," he whispered, dropping the letter as he managed to unclench his fingers. Enjolras made no move to stop him as Grantaire slowly bent and picked it up, eyes not leaving Enjolras's until he'd stood straight again, only then starting to read the letter. When he finished he swore quietly, dropping it himself and pulling Enjolras into a hug without even thinking.

"They're not worth it," he told Enjolras firmly. "Neither of them. Your father is a crazy religous conservative bastard who isn't worth your time or tears, and your mother isn't much better unless she becomes willing to stand up for herself and you occasionally."

"Alana was asking about them again," Enjolras admitted quietly, gladly resting his head on Grantaire's shoulder.

"Don't tell her any details," Grantaire suggested. "Not until she's older. And I mean a lot older. At least, that would be my suggestion." Enjolras just nodded. "You need a drink. Not alcohol, this is you, but coffee. Or tea. Either would do. Or maybe even hot chocolate. That used to work to cheer you up."

"Hot chocolate sounds good," Enjolras admitted, voice only a very little weaker than normal.

"You need to forget about them," Grantaire sighed, leaning his forehead against Enjolras's. "I mean it. You always paid far too much attention to what they thought, wasted too much time. Stop fighting them and trying to persuade them to accept you as who you are. Give up on them."

"Where's Alana?" Enjolras asked suddenly, ignoring Grantaire's comments.

"Asleep through there," Grantaire replied, indicating over his shoulder at the lounge.

"We should put her to bed then have a brew," Enjolras decided. It was only when Grantaire was headed back into the lounge that he spoke again, voice even quieter than it had been before. "Thank you. For being here."

"I'll always be here," Grantaire promised, voice both amused and bitter at the same time. "I won't walk away."

"We should have dinner sometimes," Enjolras announced suddenly about an hour later, when the two men were sat watching TV.

"You mean like a date?" Grantaire asked finally.

"Yeah, exactly like a date."

"Go on then," the artist smiled, finishing his coffee. "Why not."

As they made plans to meet up late the following week, the first free time both men had when there would be someone available to look after Alana, neither of them remembered which important date would occur first, possibly changing everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever I shall inform you of the song I have stolen (and changed the last verse slightly) this time. The song Grantaire sings to Alana is The Marvelous Toy, by Tom Paxton.


	18. July Thirteenth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An important day rolls round and not everyone who remembers handles it well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I must confess I rushed the end of this slightly as I've been trying to write this for a while. If I weren't leaving the house tomorrow at 5am to do a 12 hour walk, then I'd finish it tomorrow, but I don't know if I'll be in a fit state by tomorrow night, so you can have it now.

Combeferre had barely got his glasses on when his eyes were drawn to the calendar and he groaned, waking Eponine.

"What is it?" she mumbled, rolling over and pushing herself up onto one elbow to look at him.

"The date," he sighed, sitting back on the edge of the bed and taking her hand. "Thirteenth of July."

"Fuck," she muttered bitterly, dropping back down. "They were doing so well."

"I'm phoning Feuilly, I think he's the one with the day off," Combeferre said automatically as he searched for his phone, finally finding the contact he needed.

_"You are so lucky it's today and I'm already awake,"_ Feuilly growled as a greeting. _"And yes, I know you wouldn't have been calling otherwise. And no, I can't do Grantaire duty. I was planning to, but no longer can."_

"You'd better have a good reason," Combeferre said, pacing as he so often did when stressed, Eponine's eyes following him silently.

_"He's already vanished."_

"Already?" Combeferre swore. "It's not even eight yet, he's never awake before ten."

_"He's been leaving every morning for Enjolras's at half eight,"_ Feuilly reminded him. _"Not really that much later than this."_

"Does anyone have any idea where he'll be?"

_"Bahorel's gonna search all bars in his break, Jehan's offered to go round all the parks and public places, and Courfeyrac's stopping by any buildings Grantaire's known to use on his way to pick up Marius and Cosette from the airport. I'm just going to be walking round for the day I think."_

"I'll do what I can in my breaks," Combeferre promised, hanging up. "No luck," he told Eponine.

"He seemed to be alright the past couple of years," she reminded him, but Combeferre was shaking his head before she'd finished.

"One, Enjolras is back, and they've been having troubles getting their relationship sorted and steady again, whether into a friendship or something more," he said, speaking bluntly as he dressed hurriedly. "Two, he quit drinking. He's never had alcohol around on this day before. Think about how he's been the past few months. Now just imagine what he could be like with a real reason to drink."

"We have to find him," Eponine whispered, a horrified look on her face.

"Agreed." Leaning over the bed, Combeferre kissed her softly before starting to fiddle with his tie. "I'll see you later."

* * *

After six years Grantaire didn't have to try and remember the date, instead instinctively knowing the moment he woke what was so significant about that particular day. He blamed this for the fact that he was waking at  six am, shooting the clock death glares as he rolled out of bed and found the cleanest clothes from the ones scattered and abandoned around the floor of his room.

Holding his shoes, Grantaire padded up the stairs from his basement bedroom and silently left the house, just pulling the front door to behind him because he knew the only way it would shut fully would be to slam it shut and wake everyone. His shoes he left until he was making his way down the path, hopping slightly as he struggled to get them on one at a time.

Fully clothed finally, Grantaire simply wandered through town aimlessly, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he tried to figure out how he felt. This particular date had always been a difficult one for the artist, stirring painful memories of six years previous, but this year, for the first time, the main reason was back.

"We have a date," Grantaire mumbled, trying to remind himself that things were starting to turn around, but all he could see was the words of the letter he could never have gotten rid of. Combeferre had burnt it in the end, along with the one Enjolras had left for his best friend, informing Grantaire that it was just plain unhealthy and self-destructive to keep on reading them constantly. "I love him. He clearly likes me or he wouldn't have asked me out. He came back. It's no big deal."

_Except it is,_ his subconscious sneered cruelly. _He left once, he could again. He's going to break your heart. Again._

"Shut up," he muttered, glaring at a passing woman when she gave him a strange look. "What?" he snapped.

_She thinks you're crazy,_ his subconscious continued. _She's not wrong. You always were crazy, to think someone like him would love someone like you. He'll never want you. You're a pathetic drunkard who fails at everything. Why would he want you in his life or anywhere near his daughter?_

"Fuck," Grantaire breathed out shakily, looking round desperately. Seeing a supermarket on the corner opposite, he quickly headed inside, already planning out where he was going to hide with the alcohol he bought.

* * *

It wasn't like Enjolras forgot that the date was important, it was more that he'd simply forgotten what the actual date was. He spent the Saturday out by the river with Alana, taking advantage of the rare sunshine they were having that week and playing whatever silly games his daughter wanted.

Around lunchtime he fired off a couple of texts to Grantaire and the other friends he knew had the day off, inviting them to come down and join him. He wasn't particularly bothered or worried when he received no replies, simply assuming they were busy elsewhere or weren't near their phones. He did the same often enough himself.

Combeferre however was almost frantic. His museum was being neglected whilst he coordinated the search for their friend, the group getting desperate as the hours past. When the cafe and museum closed for the night, Combeferre grabbed Eponine and Bossuet, dragging them out to start searching again.

"He has to be somewhere," he said firmly, frown etched deep on his forehead and worry showing clearly in his eyes. "When does Joly's shift finish?"

"In an hour. I'll get 'Chetta to pick him up though, this is more important," Bossuet replied, checking his phone to see if either Bahorel or Feuilly had had any luck with their search.

In the end, it was Enjolras found him. Still unaware of the fact his friend was missing, no-one having wanted to tell him until they had no other choice due to them all being convinced the day was to blame, he was laughing at Alana's antics when he answered the door.

"No need to lean on the bell," he started, smiling even more when he saw Grantaire. "Oh, hey 'Taire." The smile faded when he realised Grantaire was swaying, just how drunk his friend was finally sinking in. "What do you want?" he asked, somewhat sharply.

"Hey babe," Grantaire slurred, half empty bottle of vodka in his hand. He hadn't been this drunk in many years and it worried Enjolras to see him this far gone, even though he was mainly just annoyed at the other man. "I missed you."

"What do you want?" Enjolras repeated, voice snapping now.

"Uncle R!"

Hearing his daughter's voice Enjolras span to see her grin excitedly and run out of the lounge towards them, throwing her arms around Grantaire's waist. Enjolras quickly pulled her back and crouched slightly, looking her in the eyes.

"Go back inside, I'll be through in a minute," he said softly, voice serious. "I just need to talk to R alone, okay?" Alana sighed but nodded and headed back through into the lounge. Enjolras's eyes and voice grew cold as he straightened and looked over at his inebriated friend again. "Are you going to answer my question?"

"I wanted to see you. Make sure you still existed. And you do Apollo, you do." Grantaire raised the bottle, as if to toast Enjolras. "Can I come in?"

"Alana, lounge, now," Enjolras called over his shoulder, catching sight of his daughter hovering in the doorway through the corner of his eye, watching the two men. He waited until the other door had shut before taking a small step outside and letting the flat's front door almost close.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he hissed, glaring at Grantaire. "What made you decide this would be a good idea? I warned you, you stay away from here when you've been drinking. It's not hard to remember."

"I had to know you were here. That you hadn't left again. That I hadn't dreamed you coming back." Grantaire took a big swig of his drink as he looked over at Enjolras.

"So you went and got stupidly drunk first," Enjolras sneered, shaking his head. "You disgust me sometimes, you know that? You know what will happen and you do it anyway. Do you care about nothing? There is no reason for you to drink like this - you're just killing yourself! I have told you hundreds of times that I'm not leaving, you know I have no plans to leave, so why are you so worried about something that isn't going to happen?!"

"Because you fucking left me once before!" Grantaire yelled, free hand balling up into a fist as his other clenched even tighter around the bottle.

"I've said I'm sorry about that!"

"And I told you sorry isn't enough!"

"Then why the fuck did you agree to go out with me?"

"Beyond me!"

The pair stood glaring at each other unblinkingly, breathing heavily as they paused in their shouting match. After several minutes of this Grantaire simply turned and stalked away, ignoring Enjolras's cries for him to get back there and talk to him dammit.

Enjolras stood in the doorway watching him until Grantaire had vanished from sight, only then sighing and returning indoors to the only reason he hadn't followed the drunk.

"Bed missy," he said firmly to Alana, holding out his hand to her and not accepting any arguments. His mind stayed fixed on Grantaire the whole time, reminding him of the look in his green eyes at the words Enjolras had spoken.

* * *

Combeferre had sent the others home at around eight pm, instructing them to eat whilst he carried on searching, unable to give up. Bahorel had insisted on continuing round all the bars and Feuilly was searching the riverside, but everyone else was too tired and hungry from a long day working to argue for long.

It was nearing ten when Combeferre finally considered giving up, deciding he'd head home the long way so as to keep searching for as long as possible. The sheer exhaustion he felt inside was the only reason he was even considering stopping, but he could tell that if he didn't go home soon he would collapse and his friends would be searching for two missing men.

He wasn't sure why he chose to go the way he did, heading down the back alleys instead of going by the usual routes, but when he almost tripped over the body passed out in the road he was glad he had.

"Oh crap," he murmured, crouching to try and help whoever it was. When he recognised the man however, he paled slightly and pulled the unconscious man up to his feet, slinging one arm over his shoulders as he set back off towards his flat, grateful that he was stronger than he looked. "Oh Grantaire," he sighed sadly, wishing he could have helped his friend better than he had.

"Combeferre?" Eponine asked, confused, opening the door at his knock. "What's wrong, have you lost your keys or som- Ah." Reaching over she slipped under Grantaire's other arm, which was trailing down towards the ground, helping take his weight and get him inside. "What happened?"

"I found him in an alley," Combeferre explained quietly, catching his breath as they lowered Grantaire onto the sofa, his head lolling to one side. "There were two empty bottles but I get the feeling he'd drunk more beforehand."

"I hate him." The quiet voice interrupted him and they both looked down to see Grantaire's eyes part open.

"What happened?" Combeferre demanded, dropping down into a crouch and resting his weight on the balls of his feet as he stared Grantaire down.

"What's the fucking point?" the inebriated man muttered softly, his depression clear in every syllable. "In this. In life. In bothering to continue. In anything?" Combeferre placed one hand on Grantaire's shoulder gently.

"Did you go to see Enjolras?" he asked softly. The look on Grantaire's face was all the answer Combeferre needed and the younger man's face darkened. "'Ponine, get him some water," he said to his girlfriend, standing and entering their bedroom whilst she watched him worriedly before heading into the kitchen. Pulling out the phone Combeferre just about managed to stop himself from slamming the door, instead just making sure it clicked shut before he rang Enjolras.

"What the fucking hell did you say?" Combeferre snapped the second Enjolras picked up, struggling to keep his voice quiet. "He's in a bad way Enjolras, you had better have a bloody good reason for this."

"He was drunk," Enjolras retorted, clearly still annoyed. "I warned him never to show up here drunk. I bloody warned him! And he just ignored me!"

"Have you any idea what day it is? Any at all?" The silence from the other end of the phone was the only reply.

"Oh," Enjolras eventually said softly.

"Yeah. Oh." Combeferre shook his head angrily. "Well, congratulations on screwing up so completely and utterly."

"I forgot," Enjolras whispered, completely horrified.

"I'd guessed." Combeferre sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. "It's bad, Enjolras. I haven't seen him this bad in years. What did you say?"

"That he's killing himself. That he cares about nothing. That he knew I wasn't going to leave so this was pointless, that I was sorry, why was he agreeing to go out on a date if he was so confinced I was going to leave again." Enjolras's voice trailed almost to nothing for the next sentence. "That he disgusts me sometimes."

Combeferre was shocked into silence.

"Fuck," he breathed finally, eyes flickering to the door, behind which Grantaire was still laid on the sofa, slowly drinking the water.

"I never even thought. I was just so mad with him," Enjolras admitted.

"Well you've fucked up this time," Combeferre said bluntly. "And this needs sorting. Not tonight, he's too far gone for that. But soon."

"I know," Enjolras replied softly. "I know."

"I'll talk to you later," Combeferre sighed, hanging up. He stayed there for a few minutes, head resting in his hands until he managed to pull himself together and head back into the lounge. Eponine's eyes instantly moved to his and the worry in them was obvious but he shook his head, stopping her from speaking. Grantaire was passed out again, the look of shame present on his face so much even when asleep that something inside of Combeferre just snapped.

"That's it," he decided, pulling out his phone again. "I've had enough." He ignored Eponine's questions as she demanded to know what he was going to do, simply waiting for the woman on the other end of the call to pick up. "Hello, Mrs Wise? Hi, it's Combeferre. How is he?" His eyes flickered to Grantaire and he sighed again. "That's what I'm calling about. Things aren't good. Do you think you could come round tomorrow?"


	19. Barbara Wise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire's mother arrives to help and try sort things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out injuring your ankle gets you time off work, so instead I sat here and wrote you all this.

"Daddy," Alana started at breakfast the next morning, jolting Enjolras out of his thoughts.

"Yes Allie?"

"Why didn't Uncle R come in last night?"

Enjolras hesitated. He hated lying to his daughter but he couldn't tell her the truth, not this time.

"He was ill," he said finally. "He needed to go home and get better."

"Is that why I couldn't see him?"

Enjolras nodded.

"Yes sweetheart."

"Can I make him a card?"

He smiled slightly. "Course you can. I'll find you some card and pens after you've finished eating."

As he watched Alana drawing happily on the coloured card he'd found, Enjolras let himself get lost in his thoughts again. Now that he'd calmed down overnight Enjolras couldn't believe what he'd said to Grantaire the night before, and all he could do was pray that Grantaire would consider listening to him when he went to beg forgiveness.

* * *

Eponine had barely opened the door when she'd been swept into a tight hug, startling her.

"Er, hi?" she gasped.

"Hello my dear. You must be Eponine, I've heard so much about you from my boys."

"Your boys?" Eponine looked the woman up and down as she was released. "I didn't know Grantaire had brothers."

"Oh, he doesn't," Grantaire's mother said cheerfully, moving into the flat. "I've always considered Combeferre and Courfeyrac my boys as well, for as long as I've known them. Enjolras too, before he left."

"Can I get you a drink?" Eponine asked quickly, remembering her manners.

"No no, I can sort it myself," Barbara Wise assured her, heading into the kitchen with an air of having been around the flat a lot.

"Do you visit your... boys a lot?" Eponine asked finally, following Barbara through.

"Not as often as I'd like. Liverpool isn't exactly just down the road. Tea?"

"No thank you," Eponine shook her head. "So, what did Combeferre tell you last night?"

"Nothing, just that things aren't good and I needed to come round."

"And you just came?" She looked at the older woman in shock. "So do you actually know anything about how Grantaire is?"

"Not yet," Combeferre replied for Barbara, entering the room behind Eponine and wrapping his arms round her waist before kissing the side of her neck in greeting. "Hey Mrs Wise."

"How many times do I have to tell you," she started lecturing, grinning as he let go of Eponine and swept her into a hug.

""Call me Barbara"," he laughed, saying the words along with her. "I missed you."

"I missed you too kid." Pulling back slightly, she raised one eyebrow at him and fixed him with a serious look. "So when were you planning on telling me my son had started drinking again?" She shook her head sadly when he just stared at her. "What, did you think I wouldn't know? He's my son. I know him better than I know anyone, and I know that the only reason he would stop ringing every week would be if he thought he'd disappointed me. You would have been able to cope with just about any other problem, but him drinking again is more serious."

"We've been trying to help him," Combeferre told her, drawing her over to the table by the elbow and waiting until she'd sat before continuing. Eponine quickly leaped to her feet, gladly finishing making the drinks as it gave her something to do. "We've been cutting him down in the past few months, but yesterday..." His voice trailed off and he shrugged. "Well, you know."

"Why did he start drinking again?" Barbara asked softly, accepting the tea off Eponine with a smile.

"Enjolras came back, around January time. He has a daughter now as well. That's why things were so much worse last night. Grantaire was drunk and went round to the flat and... well." He sighed and shrugged. "Enjolras took offence to 'Taire being drunk around Alana. I'm not sure he actually meant what he said, but he certainly didn't think before he said it. When I found Grantaire last night, he was passed out in an alley. I don't know what to do anymore," Combeferre admitted, nervously meeting Barbara's eyes.

"You rang my _mother_?!" Grantaire stood in the doorway, glaring at Combeferre and Eponine. "Seriously? What the fuck 'Ferre!"

"Language Grantaire," Barbara scolded, bouncing up to pull her son into her arms. "It was the right thing for him to do and you know it. He has your best interests at heart."

"Then he'd give up," Grantaire snapped, not thinking about who he was talking to. "His help won't change things, so he's just wasting his time."

"Combeferre, Eponine, if you could just leave us please," Barbara said quietly, eyes not leaving her son's.

"Come on," Combeferre murmured. "Let's go somewhere for lunch."

When they were alone, Barbara started.

"Now I don't know why you think that, but you're wrong," she told Grantaire, quiet but firm. "Combeferre will never give up on you, nor should he. Oh why do you do this to yourself Grantaire? If you carry on drinking like this you will kill yourself, and I am not watching you go down the same route as your father. Do you hear me? I've gone through that hell once, Grantaire Wise. Now you listen to me. You are going to quit. No, you don't have an option in that so close your mouth right no. No arguments. You are quitting, and your friends here are willing to help through that. Again."

"I can't!" Grantaire yelled, throwing his hands up. "Okay? I think last night was proof of that!"

"Don't I get a say in this?" she demanded. "Don't I get a say in my son destroying himself? You quit because of him. Admit it."

"Fine, I quit because of him. Big fucking deal. Ow!" His hand flew up to where she'd clipped him round the ear.

"How many times do I have to tell you to mind your language," Barbara snapped. "So you quit because of him. Why then did it suddenly seem a good idea to start again because of him? Hmm? Why did you think he'd want you back drunk?"

"I didn't," admitted Grantaire. "But it helps me forget. It helps me keep going." He bit back a sob as his mother hugged him tightly, burying his face in her shoulder. "I can't do this," he mumbled, voice muffled. "I love him, mum, I really do. I love him but I disgust him. I can't win so why bother? I may as well just die because I've nothing worth living for without him."

Every word broke Barbara's heart.

"Oh sweetheart," she sighed, stroking back his hair. "There is everything worth living for. There's your friends, and your art and music. There's me, and there's yourself as well. If you're going to live for anything, then you live for yourself, you hear me? Your father just gave up. I'm not letting you do the same."

"I gave up years ago, why can't you just understand that?"

"Because I will never give up on you," she whispered, kissing the top of his head lightly. "Ever. Because I love you, son. You are my life, okay? You are my world just as much as he is yours." Slowly, Grantaire pulled away and looked at her, face blotchy from the tears. He hesitated before nodding.

"I don't know if I can, but I'll try."

"That's all I can ask," she said softly, placing a hand against his cheek. "Now when Combeferre and Eponine get back you can apologise to them, and to the rest of your friends as well, for putting them through this." She smiled weakly when he nodded. "But first you look like you could do with a coffee. You sit down and I'll sort you one out. I'm not leaving until this is being sorted, so you'd best start filling me in on what I've missed since you stopped calling."

* * *

Enjolras hurried to the door as fast as he could when he heard the knock, tearing it open, expecting Combeferre or someone else who could tell him how Grantaire was. What he wasn't expecting was for Barbara Wise to be standing there.

"Mrs Wise?" he said slowly, shocked.

"Hello Enjolras," she replied, slightly coldly. "I think we need to talk."

"Of course," he said automatically, moving to the side to allow her into the flat. "The kitchen is just through here. I'd take you into the lounge, but I wouldn't want to subject you to children's TV."

"Yes, Combeferre mentioned you had a daughter now. Alana, if I recall correctly. How old is she?"

"Four. And no, I'm not married, before you ask."

"That must be a regular question from old friends."

The pair chatted about nothing in particular as Enjolras made them both drinks, Barbara gratefully accepting the tea and taking a sip before she started speaking seriously.

"Enjolras, why does my son believe he disgusts you? What exactly did you say to him last night?"

Enjolras stared at her in panic. Telling Combeferre was one thing, but this was Grantaire's mother.

"I didn't mean most of what I said," he whispered, unable to meet her eyes. "I was mad. He offered to look after Allie whilst Cosette was on honeymoon, as she does most days when I'm at work, and I'd asked him not to be drunk round her. That's reasonable, isn't it? To not want your friends to be pissed whilst around your daughter? And last night... I just didn't think. I do that a lot around him. He infuriates me and I just speak before I fully realise what I'm saying. And I realise this just sounds like excuses but it's not. It's an explanation, or at least an attempt at one."

"Enjolras, before last night, how were things between you and Grantaire?"

"Good! At least, I thought so. He agreed to go out with me. I was quite looking forward to that... Not that it will happen now. He must hate me."

"He hates himself," Barbara sighed.

"I know." Enjolras stared down into his cup for a few minutes before speaking again. "Mrs Wise, I really do still care for your son. Quite strongly, in fact. Sometimes I feel I still love him. And I would do anything to help him."

"Then try thinking before you speak," she suggested, not altogether unkindly. "Because if you hurt him again, Alana will be your only child. Understood?"

"Perfectly."

* * *

Three days after Grantaire had drunkenly shown up at Enjolras's he finally went home, the rest of his housemates under strict instrutions to mention nothing about it. The artist was grateful when he could finally escape from the lounge, the awkwardness unavoidable as Feuilly and Jehan struggled to decide what they could safely talk about.

He'd barely left the hall when the knock on the door called him back and, sighing, he headed up the stairs again, shouting, "I'll get it!" when he heard the thud of someone tripping on their way across the lounge.

There was no-one outside their house, just a small parcel with 'Grantaire' written across in familiar writing. Grantaire almost left it where he was but changed his mind at the last moment, picking it up and shutting the door as he headed down into the basement and his room.

Placing it on the side, he ignored the package for the next few hours, instead painting for the first time in weeks and chatting to Barbara when she rang to find out how he was. The hotel she was staying in was only a few streets away and they made plans for her to come round that evening before he hung up, eyes drawn to the brown paper parcel again.

Picking it up, Grantaire weighed it in his hand and considered it for a moment before opening it.

A photo album and envelope fell out and he stared at the book for a moment before opening it, leaving the envelope on the bed for the time being. Slipped inside the first two pages was a handmade card, the picture on the front a dark curly-haired man holding the hand of a smaller blonde girl, with _Get well soon_ scrawled inside in huge wonky letters. He couldn't help but smile, the amount of love and care Alana had put into the card obvious to even him. Grantaire carefully placed it on his bedside, angling it so he could clearly see it whenever he woke.

The photos were just as special and completely engrossed Grantaire. He spent the next hour slowly leafing through the pages, watching Alana grow up from hours old to how she was now, a small note next to each one informing him of her exact age and whether the picture documented anything important, such as the first time she stood unaided.

The final picture was the one to make the most impact though. It was only a week old, a snapshot of Grantaire sat laughing with Alana, both covered in paint as she painted picture after picture, most of them unrecognisable but still utterly memorable. Grantaire smiled at the memory, remembering how he'd glanced up to see Enjolras standing in the doorway watching them, a soft smile on his face.

Finally, he turned and picked the envelope up off his bed, turning it over and over in his hands before opening it with trembling fingers. Smoothing out the letter, he began to read.

_Grantaire,_

_I know it will never be enough, but I have to try._

_I'm sorry. For everything, but at this moment mostly for what I said last night. You're right, sorry isn't enough, but I don't know what else to write. If I had the guts to see you face to face then I would probably go down on my knees and beg, but I'm scared you would simply slam the door in my face. You certainly have good reason to._

_You aren't pathetic and most certainly do not disgust me. You never could. I was far too insensitive last night and all I can do now is apologise with all my heart and soul._

_These pictures are ones I meant to show you months ago. You should have been there when each one was taken, but it was my fault you were not and for that I shall never cease to feel guilty. Alana insisted on making the card and I hadn't the heart to stop her, even though you aren't technically ill. You really do mean the world to both of us. Even if you struggle believing that of me, believe it of her. She loves you a lot._

_Once again, I must use these inadequate words. I'm sorry. I am begging you from the bottom of my heart to please just consider talking to me again. I don't deserve it, but the idea of losing you forever is one I cannot stand._

_If you can face it, then call._

_I'm sorry._

_Love, Enjolras_

Grantaire had lost count of the number of times he had read and reread the letter when suddenly he was moving, grabbing his coat and flying up the stairs past Feuilly, who was just heading down into the kitchen.

"I'm heading out!" he shouted over his shoulder, not slowing down. "I'll see you later!"


	20. You Wanted To Talk, So Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire shows up at Enjolras's flat to talk about the letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a day - I feel quite proud!

"Babs!"

Jehan, who had already been heading down the stairs at the doorbell, hurried when he heard that, arriving at the front door in time to see Courfeyrac spinning an older woman around. Both were laughing, and when Courfeyrac placed her back on her feet she hugged him tightly.

"Should I be jealous?" Jehan asked dryly, smiling at the newcomer when they pulled apart. "Hi Barbara."

"Hello dear, good to see you again."

"Hey baby," Courfeyrac grinned, pulling Jehan into a one-armed hug. "Before you ask about my day, work was boring and yes I missed you." He kissed Jehan's cheek before turning back to Barbara. "I didn't know you were coming to visit Babs."

"It was a very last minute thing," she told them, hugging Jehan when he skipped over. "Combeferre called me because of Grantaire. And why wasn't I informed of this?" She smiled at the pair fondly as she tapped the ring on Jehan's finger.

"I never got round to ringing, I only asked him a couple of week ago," Courfeyrac replied, grabbing Jehan by the hip and pulling him back towards him so he was tucked into Courfeyrac's side. "How's Grantaire? I haven't seen him in a few days, he's been at 'Ferre's."

"He'll be okay eventually," Barbara sighed.

"He seemed okay when he came home earlier," Jehan said quietly. "Mentioned you were around, Barbara, and that you might be coming here tonight."

"Yeah, but then he ran off," Feuilly butted in as he entered the house, Gavroche in tow and Bahorel in tow. "Just under an hour ago. Not sure where to though, he just took off. Said he'd see me later, so he'll probably be back."

"In which case, you'll have to stay for tea," Courfeyrac decided cheerfully, looping an arm round Barbara's shoulder and steering both her and Jehan into the kitchen, chattering away cheerfully as he did so. "I've been wanting to try out one of your recipes for ages but there was a part I wasn't sure on. If you're here then you can tell me what I'm doing wrong."

* * *

"All right, all right, I'm coming!" Enjolras cried as someone pounded on his flat door, flinging it open and glaring at the man standing there. His gaze softened as soon as he saw who it was. "Ah. Hi Grantaire."

"You wanted to talk to me," Grantaire said shortly, letter still crumpled in his left hand. "So talk."

"Talking is what got us into this mess in the first place," Enjolras replied. "I could beg and plead and apologise, but would it work?"

"You could try. Or you could explain why you sent the pictures."

"I explained that in the letter. You..." Enjolras sighed. "You should have been there, for all of it. You should have been with me. It's my stupid fault you weren't and you will never know how much I regret that." Glancing over his shoulder towards the room where Alana was, he sighed again and stepped out of the flat towards Grantaire, closing the door behind me. "I have fucked up so many times 'Taire. The one thing I want to do is let you in, but I seem to be very successful at failing at this. Sending you those pictures was the only way I could think of. You know, you're the first person I ever showed those to. Making that album... I spent hours trying to decide which moments to show you. There were five years of missing moments to chose from, 'Taire, and I would show you every single one if I could. Sadly I can't, but that book is a start."

"In that letter..." Grantaire's voice trailed off and he shrugged helplessly before continuing more quietly. "How you finished it." He paused again, not meeting Enjolras's eyes. It took Enjolras all of ten seconds to work out what Grantaire meant. Stepping forwards he took Grantaire's face in his hands lightly. The look in his eyes was like he was asking permission and, stepping forwards again, he kissed Grantaire softly, a chaste touch of lips.

"I love you," he whispered against Grantaire's lips, eyes closing as he rested his forehead against the other man's. "I've wanted to say this for months. I am so, so sorry for everything I said the other night. I am so stupid sometimes, I swear to god I need a gag or something." He smiled when he felt Grantaire laugh. "Oh god I love you."

"You are a fucking idiot," Grantaire mumbled, hands moving up to Enjolras's shoulders when he showed signs of moving away. "You know that? I'm still not sure if sorry was enough, but it might do for now." He kissed Enjolras this time, one hand sliding into Enjolras's hair as the kiss deepened. "It took me seven readings of that damn letter before I realised what you'd written. I was going to call, but when I saw that... I just had to see you, to ask how you meant it."

"Exactly as I wrote it," Enjolras murmured. "I love you. I could say this all day."

"And I could listen. Though I should warn you." Grantaire pulled back and smirked evilly at Enjolras. "My mum's back in town."

"She came to see me a couple of days ago. Asked a few questions, threatened what would happen if I hurt you." Pulling back further, he caught Grantaire's chin and made sure he couldn't look away as he stared into Grantaire's eyes. "Just promise me one thing, okay? Don't hate yourself. If you have to hate anyone then hate me, because I deserve it after all this. No, don't argue. I just need you to swear that you won't hate yourself."

"I'll try. That's all I can do."

"That's all I can ask." After a few minutes silence he smiled slightly. "So. Want to join us for dinner? I know Alana would like to see you again. Like I said, she loves you too."

"I wouldn't mind seeing her too. I've missed her this past week," Grantaire admitted. "But first..." He kissed Enjolras again, more desperate this time, pushing the younger man back against his own flat's front door. Enjolras kissed him back with the same passion, clinging to him as their bodies practically molded together. "Okay, I'm good," he gasped as they parted, making Enjolras laugh, a low rumble in his chest.

"I love you," he said again, kissing Grantaire on the nose, both men laughing when his stomach grumbled. "Though my alliegence may soon change to food as soon as I'm eating."

"So long as you turn back to me afterwards," Grantaire teased.

"Every time," Enjolras promised. "Now come on. Food."

* * *

It was ten o'clock by the time the men realised Grantaire had been there all evening. They were sat on opposites sides of the sofa with Alana curled up between them, fast asleep with her head on Grantaire's knee and their hands linked and resting on her back.

"I should move her up to bed," Enjolras said softly, making no signs of planning to move.

"I should go," Grantaire replied, glancing up at Enjolras when the grip on his hand tightened. "Or I could stay. I have to admit, I do sleep better when I'm next to someone."

"I know exactly what you mean," Enjolras smiled sleepily.

"If you ask me to, I'll stay," Grantaire muttered, gently pulling Alana further onto his knee when her head slipped off. "When's her birthday?"

They wasted another half hour with Enjolras telling Grantaire every random fact he wanted to know but hadn't yet found out about Alana.

"I really should put her to bed," Enjolras repeated, standing and holding out his arms. Grantaire carefully lifted her out of his lap and into her father's embrace, making sure he had her properly before moving his own arms back out of the way.

"I'll be here," he sighed, leaning back and resting his head against the sofa back as his eyes slipped shut. He didn't remember drifting off but he must have, for the next thing he knew was Enjolras taking Alana's seat next to Grantaire and placing his arm round his shoulders.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he whispered when Grantaire turned his head to face him.

"It's fine," came the murmured reply. "I feel we should move, but I'm not sure I can be bothered."

"Then don't," Enjolras suggested. He moved to sit sideways on the sofa, tugging Grantaire down to join him as he lay across it. As he shifted to rest on his side Grantaire turned with him, allowing Enjolras to pull him against his chest and hold him there, one arm stopping him from falling to the ground as they curled together on the tiny space available. "Are you comfortable?" he breathed, mouth almost against Grantaire's ear as his breath tickled Grantaire's neck. He smiled at the contented murmur and small nod. "Good. So, what are we watching?"

"Star Trek," Grantaire replied tiredly, placing his own arm over the top of Enjolras's. "I've no idea where the remote is though so we're stuck with it."

"Depends how long we're awake," chuckled Enjolras.

They were both asleep before the first red shirted security officer had died, both men feeling safe and secure in the warm embrace.

* * *

"Well, either they've made up or Grantaire's sleeping at 'Ferre's again," Bahorel decided, glancing over at the clock. "Personally I hope it's the former."

"We all do," Feuilly agreed, filling up Barbara and Jehan's wine glasses as he got himself another beer.

"How come I don't get a drink?" Courfeyrac demanded.

"Because you're just plain lazy and not in my good books after work today."

"I thought you'd left!" he protested, Feuilly replying instantly.

"You locked me in the damn gallery and turned the alarm on!" Bahorel, Jehan and Barbara all burst out laughing at that.

"Yeah, you deserve it," Jehan sniggered, leaning over and kissing Courfeyrac's cheek when he dared to look affronted.

"Well if my son isn't going to be showing up soon I may as well be heading back to the hotel," Barbara sighed. "Thank you very much for the dinner and drinks, boys. It's been nice to sit and chat with you again."

"I'll walk you back," Bahorel offered instantly, draining his bottle and leaping to his feet. "Can't have a lady walking on her own at this time, simply wouldn't be right."

"We have no gentlemen to walk her back," Feuilly laughed, smiling sweetly at Bahorel when he stuck one finger up in reply.

"My oh my, I really will have to work on your language." Barbara shook her head disapprovingly. "The next person to swear, I will wash their mouth out."

"Watch out guys, she doesn't make idle threats," Courfeyrac grinned at the pair of them, tucking Jehan under his arm again when the poet slid closer on the sofa. "Now go on, off with you, before it's turning midnight and poor old Babs is still sat here with us four. And remember, you're invited for lunch tomorrow Babs. I'll text Grantaire, make sure he's home by then."

"I'll see you three tomorrow then," she smiled, ruffling Courfeyrac's hair on her way past. Bahorel snorted with barely concealed laughter, offering her his arm like a gentleman as they were leaving the house.

"I am never letting him forget that," he grinned evilly.

"I didn't really expect you too."


	21. Family Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras insists on inviting Barbara round for dinner with Alana and Grantaire before she goes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is one of the few chapters I haven't had a plan for, and this was the first thing to jump into my mind. Next chapter should hit a proper plan again hopefully.

Enjolras and Grantaire felt themselves incredibly well restrained next morning, only wasting half an hour curled up together making out on the sofa before forcing themselves to rise and start their day, Grantaire setting to making breakfast while Enjolras headed upstairs to wake Alana. The young girl was excited to see Grantaire still present at the flat, following him round as he made pancakes. Grantaire loved it, letting her add some ingredients to the mix and helping her mix it for a couple of minutes before taking over again. Enjolras was happy to let them get on with it, heading back to the lounge and turning on his computer to start checking through his work e-mails whilst he had five minutes of peace and quiet.

"If you want the second pancake, I'd get in here now," Grantaire yelled suddenly and Enjolras grinned.

"What do we even have to go on them?" he asked as he entered the kitchen.

"Lemon and sugar, jam, chocolate spread - do not give me that look Apollo it is perfection when on pancakes - maple syrup, honey, anything else weird you fancy putting on them because for some crazy reason you and 'Ferre like them savory..." Grantaire trailed off when he saw the expression on Enjolras's face. "What?"

"You now officially know my kitchen better than I do. It's more than slightly embarrassing." Enjolras gave Grantaire a quick peck on the cheek as he passed, plate of food clutched firmly in his hand. Alana was already sat at the table eating, but that didn't stop her from asking, "Why did you kiss Uncle R?"

Enjolras hesitated slightly, sharing a glance with Grantaire.

"As a thank you for making breakfast," he settled for finally, hoping she'd leave it there.

Thankfully for him, she did.

"I'd best ring my mum later, I forgot she was meant to be heading round to the house last night," Grantaire sighed later on, when Alana had taken over the lounge with her colouring and the two men were washing up in the kitchen. Enjolras turned and tugged him closer, not caring about the dark marks his soapy hands were leaving on Grantaire's shirt as he kissed him.

"You should invite her round for tea one night before she leaves," Enjolras suggested, jokingly adding on, "I need to try and redeem myself somehow after all," and making Grantaire laugh.

"Well, you'll definitely have to redeem yourself if she doesn't get the chance to meet Allie properly," he grinned. "She loves kids."

"In which case, I suppose I can trust you to pass the message along, for the Wise family to come join us one night." Enjolras pulled a face. "The Wise family. I almost feel an idiot saying it."

"Try being a wise man in every single school nativity."

"You have my sympathies but it could be worse. They made me be Mary one year."

"Prettier than the girls?" He smirked when Enjolras blushed and nodded. "Aww, poor baby. True though."

"Shush you."

They quickly finished the washing up after that, though with occasionally kisses snuck in when Grantaire had to lean past Enjolras to put something away.

"I have to go," Grantaire sighed finally, kissing Enjolras softly. "I'm meeting the council with Courf today. Something about the second cafe."

"Good luck with that then. But first, we need to sort something out." Enjolras smiled when Grantaire looked worried. "We missed our date."

"Oh god, we can't have that," Grantare laughed. "Same time this week sound good?"

"Perfect." He pulled Grantaire in for one last kiss before letting him go. "Go on, you don't want to be late. I'll see you soon."

* * *

"Grantaire got laid!" Courfeyrac crowed as soon as Grantaire entered the cafe, recognising the clothes his friend was wearing as being from the day before.

"Well I must admit, I could have done without hearing that," Barbara said dryly from her table. "And you are very lucky I am the only customer."

"Hey mum," Grantaire greeted, giving her a hug. "And no Courf, I did not get laid. I stayed overnight, that's it. Nothing other than sleeping." _And kissing_ , he added silently, but they didn't need to know every detail.

"I take it things are going well?" his mother inquired, keeping her tone and face innocent.

"He apologised," Grantaire said with a broad smile. "Put a parcel through our door with a photo album in. All the pictures from Alana growing up. Times I missed, and times I didn't. There were even pictures of me and Allie from the past few weeks." He sat next to Barbara and nodded at Courfeyrac when he held up a mug from by the counter. "So I went to talk to him. He, ah, he, well... He convinced me that he really was sorry."

"He told you he loves you didn't he," Barbara said knowingly, simply smiling when he nodded. "Oh good. So when do I get to meet Alana?"

"I have instructions to invite you over for dinner before you go back home."

"Well won't that be nice. Tomorrow maybe?"

"I'll see if he's free. So how was your night? Sorry again for forgetting."

"She spent it with us," Courfeyrac informed him, handing the Americano over before joining them. "We have fifteen minutes before the meeting, so drink fast."

"What are they even talking about?"

"Your design."

"My what?!" Grantaire spluttered, spilling his coffee. "Fuck! Ow! Jesus Christ Courf, you said you weren't giving them the design till September!"

"Why did I bother bringing you up correctly?" Barbara demanded.

"Oops... Sorry mum, heat of the moment you know." His apologetic expression quickly turned grimmer when he glared at Courfeyrac, still waiting for an explanation. "Well?"

"They wanted to see it!" Courfeyrac protested, shrinking into his chair. "They're sort of my bosses when it comes to that place, I can't say no! They want to start building in September so need the plans now."

"You could have at least warned me!"

"It's not the end of the world," Barbara said soothingly, pulling Grantaire back from where he'd sat right forwards on his chair. "You never mentioned you were designing Courf's cafe."

"It's a fairly recent thing," he shrugged. "Not that important. It's a job."

She sighed. "And there goes my little boy who used to tell me everything, no matter how small."

"Back when I was ten maybe!"

"You two need to go now or you'll be late," Combeferre called over as he walked through the cafe to reach the museum.

"Ah, it is nice having a personal assistant," Courfeyrac sighed happily, making both Grantaire and Barbara laugh. "And he's right. We now have ten minutes."

"I still hate you, but let's go," Grantaire sighed, finishing his coffee quickly. "You owe me another drink later. Bye mum."

* * *

The following night Barbara arrived at the flat early, planning to talk to Enjolras before Grantaire arrived, but was disappointed when he opened the door and smiled at her, adding "Grantaire's just in the lounge with Alana" onto the end of his greeting.

"I was hoping to have a word in private, but I suppose it can wait."

Enjolras glanced over his shoulder.

"Well they're currently busy watching Powerpuff Girls so could be occupied for quite a while. We can chat in the kitchen?"

"Perfect." Once they were inside the kitchen she held out a bottle. "I brought Sleur, so even Alana can have some. We need to talk about my son."

"What about him?" Enjolras asked, not meeting her eyes as he accepted the bottle and placed it in the fridge.

"Look at me." Her voice was deceptively calm for the immense warning present in her eyes when he glanced over. "If you _ever_ do _anything_ to hurt my son again, you will live to regret it. You didn't have to watch him fall apart last time - I did and it almost killed me. He is over the moon that you've asked him out again - don't mess it up this time."

"Look, Mrs Wise-"

"Barbara," she interrupted.

"Barbara," he amended. "I deeply regret what happened six years ago, and am extremely lucky to have him back in my life. After everything I wouldn't have blamed him if he'd simply told me where to go. But he didn't, and I love him all the more for that. I love him, and I'm not leaving him again."

"You said you loved him last time," Barbara pointed out, taking a seat at the table as Enjolras started checking the pans on the cooker. "But you still left."

"And it tore me up inside. I left because I honestly thought it was the right thing to do at the time, but if it hadn't been for Alana being born I wouldn't have stayed away as long as I did. I wasn't sure how much longer I could cope when I found out Charlie was expecting. After going through that once, I can't do it again, and I couldn't put Grantaire through that again either. No, your son is stuck with me until he decides he's had enough."

"Which is unlikely to happen soon," Barbara admitted, standing again and pushing Enjolras out of the way to take over. "And you're cooking this wrong, it's all going to burn unless you're careful." He raised his hands in surrender and backed away.

"I hate cooking," he sighed.

"I'd noticed dear," she said dryly. "Now, tell me all about this daughter of yours before I finally get to meet her."

* * *

Alana and Barbara got on like a house on fire from the moment they met, Alana hanging onto Barbara's every word as the older woman spoke to her. Enjolras and Grantaire sat opposite, subtly brushing fingers or touching knees every so often as they ate, keeping their own conversation quiet so as not to introduce their relatives.

"So you're Uncle R's mummy?" they heard Alana ask, their words ending as they started listening to the conversation.

"Yes, that's right," Barbara replied.

"Is Uncle R's daddy coming tonight as well?"

There was a pause.

"No, he's not," Barbara said sadly. "My husband died many years ago."

"Died?"

"She's never known anyone who's died," Enjolras explained at Barbara's look. "So I never had to explain it."

"When you die, you go to sleep and just... don't wake up," Barbara said finally, choosing her words carefully when it became obvious Alana wasn't going to stop waiting for an answer. "It doesn't happen till you're very old though, or very very ill. No-one you know will die for a long time sweetheart. You've no need to worry."

"Is that why I don't have a mummy?"

The silence this time was pronounced.

"No Allie, not at all," Enjolras said after a few moments. "Your mother isn't dead."

"Oh good," she said cheerfully, happily starting eating again. Grantaire glanced between his mother and his boyfriend nervously, trying to gauge their moods. Barbara had drawn into herself slightly, as was normal whenever anyone mentioned her late husband, and Enjolras simply had a small frown on his forehead, clearly thinking about Charlie.

"Relax," Grantaire whispered, rubbing his thumb lightly over the creases he could see. "Allie doesn't need a mother. She just needs you." Enjolras smiled at him tiredly.

"Thank you," he murmured, catching hold of Grantaire's hand and squeezing it gently. "Allie, it's time for you to go get ready for bed. Come on." He held his hand out as he stood.

"Uncle R," Alana demanded, holding her own hand out to Grantaire.

"Sure thing kiddo," Grantaire smiled, taking her hand in his and leaving the room with Alana skipping along beside him, Enjolras sitting back down again.

"Want to talk?" Enjolras offered after a few minutes of silence, glancing over at where Barbara was still sat, twirling her wine glass of sleur absentmindedly.

"I still miss him," she sighed, giving him a small smile. "Even after all these years, it's impossible to stop missing him. Grantaire reminds me of him too much, but seeing you with Alana tonight just made me wish Mothy had been a better father."

"Tim was a good man," Enjolras pointed out. "Hell, I didn't know him well or meet him often but even I know that. Now he may not have been the best father thanks to his drinking, but he did love you both."

"I'm scared," she admitted, placing the glass down on the table and dropping her head into her hands. "I'm scared of Grantaire ending up too much like his father and drinking himself to death before he's forty. The way Grantaire has been there are times when I'd be amazed if he reached thirty, and that scares me more than anything. He's all I have left, Enjolras. I can't lose him." Enjolras was out of his seat and round the table in seconds, pulling Barbara into a hug as he perched on the chair next to her. "Promise me something. Promise me you'll help him get sober then stay sober. Don't let him go. Look after him. Love him."

"Always," Enjolras promised.

"I'm sorry," she laughed finally, wiping her eyes as she pulled away. "It seems strange, I'm normally the one doing the comforting."

"Everyone needs someone to talk to sometimes," he told her. "And if you ever do, especially if about 'Taire, then you know my number. Well, if you don't, I'll give it you before you go."

"Thank you dear." She considered him. "You know, I'm glad you're back. You're good for him."


	22. Second First Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Grantaire's first two dates, second time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any mistakes, I am in a state of perpetual tiredness at the minute which is barely letting me write nevermind correct said writing.
> 
> I'm not always so great at writing the happier stuff, but fingers crossed this one came out okay.

Enjolras felt like the past seven years had vanished as he got ready for their date, searching through his clothes for something to wear just as desperately as he had on their first night out together as an official couple. At first Alana had helped him by passing random shirts over but she had soon gotten bored and was instead sat in a corner playing Temple Run on his tablet.

The bed was covered in discarded shirts and jumpers before he found something he liked, an old red shirt he remembered as being one of the few items he'd taken when he left six years before. It had faded over the years and was nowhere near as bright as it had once been but he felt it suited him more these days.

"What do you think Allie?" he asked, turning to face her. "Do I look okay?" Glancing over, Alana just nodded before going back to the game. "Now, you're going to behave for Barbara tonight, yes?"

"Yes daddy," she replied instantly, smiling innocently up at him.

"I mean it missy." Taking the tablet from her and placing it on the bed, he picked her up and gave her a serious look. "No tantrums, no arguing about bedtime, do whatever she says and remember your manners, okay? No turning on the waterworks when it's time to go to bed like you did with Gavroche, because Barbara won't listen."

"I know how to behave," she pouted.

"And you know how to try and get your own way," he pointed out, kissing her forehead as he carried her out of the room and into the lounge, placing her down on the sofa when the doorbell rang. "Hi Barbara," he smiled as he answered the door, returning her hug. "Allie's in the lounge. I don't know what time I'll be back, but I'll try and make sure it's not too la-"

"You boys go have fun," she interrupted. "I've nowhere to be tomorrow, so you've no need to hurry back."

"I think I love you," he said mock-seriously, hugging her again. "I'll see you tonight."

* * *

"Well don't you look smart," Jehan beamed as he opened the door. "Grantaire's just downstairs finishing getting ready."

"Want a drink?" Courfeyrac offered over his fiance's shoulder.

"What are you guys, my parents?" Grantaire laughed, suddenly appearing at the top of the stairs behind them. "You gonna give him the nth degree or something before you let us go out?"

"Well we could..." Courfeyrac pretended to consider it whilst Grantaire flipped him off and Jehan and Enjolras laughed. "Hey, it's good to see you cheerful again mate. So where you taking our little boy?"

"Call me a little boy again..." Grantaire threatened, while Enjolras simply smiled.

"Ah well, he'll have to wait and see," he said enigmatically.

"Then let's go." Grantaire looped his arm through Enjolras's. "I'm intrigued. See you later guys!"

"Don't stay out too late," Courfeyrac called out teasingly, but Jehan, the one Enjolras still thought of as an innocent little poet, surprised them both by saying, "Enjoy the sex," with a wicked smile on his face. Both men stuttered slightly and avoided looking at each other, turning red as Courfeyrac burst out laughing.

"We gotta go," Enjolras decided quickly, dragging Grantaire towards his car. They stayed silent until a few minutes into the drive, when Enjolras risked a glance over at Grantaire. "We need to get one thing clear," he said, voice quiet but firm. "We can't rush things. We rushed things last time. No, don't argue, we did and you know it."

"It took you a month to stop arguing with me long enough to fuck me," Grantaire pointed out.

"Maybe, but you blew me on the first day I kissed you," Enjolras replied immediately.

"...Okay, true. So maybe we rushed things a bit. That's not necessarily what made things go wrong though."

"Oh I'm not saying it was, I'm just saying it probably didn't help. So I'm not sleeping with you tonight."

"Well that makes two of us." Grantaire shrugged at Enjolras's questioning look. "If I sleep with you tonight, my mum is gonna find out. Now while I get that we're big boys and everything and she probably already knows we've slept together and everything, that doesn't mean I want her knowing when it's happening." He held up one finger when Enjolras opened his mouth to speak. "However, I am not taking things too slow. That would probably kill me."

Enjolras sighed. "Yeah, me too. So we take things slow-ish, agreed?"

"Agreed."

Their conversation ended just as Enjolras parked, him then hurrying round to the other side of the car to open Grantaire's door, reaching it just in time.

"Are you trying to be a gentleman?" Grantaire teased, smirking. "'Cause I am not being the lady." His only reply was a roll of Enjolras's eyes. "So where are we going?"

"In here." Once again Enjolras held the door open for Grantaire, only this time Grantaire mock-curtsied, making them both laugh. "Idiot," Enjolras said fondly, catching hold of his hand and kissing Grantaire's forehead. "Now come on. Elevator's over here. Unless you want to take the stairs?"

"Elevator will be fine thanks. How high up we going?"

"All the way, though it's only about three floors. It's not as though we've many high-rise buildings in this town."

The second the lift doors opened, Grantaire couldn't help but gasp.

"Oh my God that view! I didn't know you could get up onto the roof round here."

"The restuarant has only just opened," Enjolras explained, smiling at Grantaire's look of wonder. "They don't technically open the roof yet for another week, but the owner owes me a favour."

"Well, full marks for romantic location," Grantaire grinned. "Jehan would most definitely approve. So what sort of food do they do here?"

* * *

Two hours later and they were just finishing their dessert, feet entwined under the table as they laughed and joked with each other. It was the most comfortable they had felt together since Enjolras's return, and they had gotten on perfectly for the entire evening, bar one slight incident early on.

_Enjolras's face had darkened as soon as Grantaire ordered the bottle of wine, and Grantaire had sighed._

_"Look, I'm not quitting cold turkey," he said quietly. "Not again. I can't do that again. It almost killed me last time. I'll cut down. I've been cutting down for a while. I will never drink round Alana, I swear. And I will quit eventually. Just... Give me time, okay? Besides, it's not like I'm going to get drunk. It's half a bottle of wine."_

_"I'm driving," Enjolras reminded him, clearly still not happy._

_"I'll pay for us both a taxi home. Enjoy yourself for once. We're having a nice meal, it's only fair we have a nice drink to go with it. The stuff I've ordered is decent, I know that from Jehan. It won't kill you to have a real drink."_

_"Just please don't get drunk," Enjolras pleaded._

_"It's a deal," Grantaire promised._

_Enjolras had calmed down after Grantaire had proved he was going to keep to his promise, relaxing when he saw how slowly Grantaire was drinking._

The bottle had been finished just under an hour early but neither man had made any moves to buy another, instead just sipping their last glasses and enjoying the food.

"I've enjoyed tonight," Grantaire said finally, leaning forwards across the table to smile at his boyfriend. "We must definitely do this again."

"The date or just dinner?" Enjolras's tone was definitely flirty as he too moved forwards, elbows resting on the edge of the table as he watched Grantaire closely.

"Oh, I reckon both," Grantaire replied lightly. "Maybe something different next time, either preceeded or followed by dinner?"

"I'll think something up," Enjolras promised.

* * *

It was well after eleven when they made it home, having wandered one of the parks for about an hour then taking the scenic route back to Grantaire's house. They stood outside the door talking for a few minutes before Grantaire glanced at his watch.

"You really had best go," he sighed. "It's getting late and mum will be tired, and you have work tomorrow. I'll look after Allie for you tomorrow if you want. It's the holidays now, so I know you'll need someone there for every day you work. Cosette works, plus she's pregnant so pretty soon will be needing to rest. I'm willing to look after her... if that's okay with you that is."

Enjolras traced his fingers down Grantaire's cheek before kissing him softly.

"You can look after Alana whenever you want," he whispered. "I love you."

"I know," Grantaire murmured in reply, making him laugh.

"Who do you think you are, Han Solo?" he grinned.

"Oh no, I'm far better looking." Grantaire's smirk was interrupted by yet more kisses, kisses which grew heated as they pressed together outside the house.

"Good night Grantaire," Enjolras sighed, pulling back.

"Good night... Enjolras." They both paused, the name having a special meaning to them both. It was the first time since Enjolras had left that Grantaire had spoken it, and Grantaire saying it now said more to Enjolras than anything else could.

"I love you," he said again, the words coming out more quickly this time as he pressed their foreheads together. "I'll see you in the morning."

Grantaire stood in the doorway until Enjolras was out of sight, smiling foolishly. Shaking his head, he made his way inside, stopping suddenly when he saw Bahorel and Courfeyrac sitting there.

"Well?" Bahorel demanding.

"Details!" Courfeyrac cried just after him.

Sighing Grantaire wondered, not for the first time, why he lived with his friends.

* * *

"What?" Enjolras demanded, opening the door next morning to see Eponine standing there. "It is way too early for a social call 'Ponine, what the hell do you want?"

"I have work in half an hour," she shrugged. "And need to talk to you."

"Well you can talk inside, because if I'm getting up now then I need coffee," he grumbled. "How early do you work?"

"Depends on the job. This particular job, half six till three."

"You're insane. Coffee?"

"Tea thanks." She sat at the table and gratefully accepted the mug when he handed it over.

"The topic we're talking about?"

"Grantaire."

"If you're here just to threaten me!" he started, leaping to his feet and raising one finger in warning.

"Oh please, if I was going to threaten you I wouldn't wake you up to do it. I'd just do it in front of everyone," Eponine scoffed, and Enjolras knew she was right.

"So what about Grantaire?" He froze. "He's okay right? There's nothing wrong?"

"No, there's nothing wrong." She threw a CD case onto the table. "You're going to listen to this. Yeah, I get that you still both love each other and that's cool and everything, but you need to understand what he went through when you left. This song best explains it. He wrote it not long after it all happened."

"How come there's a recording?" Enjolras asked numbly, picking the case up and looking at it for a long moment.

"'Ferre talked him into it." Eponine fell silent as he stood and walked over the the CD player, pressing play as soon as the disc was inside. _Home_ started playing instantly, the now familiar words and music still hitting Eponine's heart. She never moved her eyes off Enjolras's face, watching the emotions playing there clear to see.

"Oh," he whispered when the song was over, almost falling into the nearest chair.

"Never forget that," she said softly, finishing her tea. "And I may not have said this yet, but I'm glad you're back."

Enjolras stayed sat there for a while after she'd left, staring at the CD case in his hands. Grantaire had clearly poured his heart and soul into that particular song and the memories were eating away at him now. The words of the song were right - his soul had indeed started to call him home early on in his absence, to the point where Enjolras had very nearly given in, and his thoughts at those times had always been of Grantaire.

Just then his phone buzzed, and Enjolras couldn't help but laugh quietly at the text, so typical of Eponine.

**Eponine:** _Oh yeah, and don't mention the song to Grantaire. He may have possibly sort of not wanted you to know about it. :)_

Removing the CD from the player and storing the case somewhere safe, Enjolras made his way into the lounge. If he had to be awake that early, he decided, he may as well get some work done.

* * *

"Yes, I promise I'll ring every week," Grantaire sighed. "And I'll let you know the moment I have any problems with quitting. And yes, if there's any problems with Enjolras. Drive safe, okay? And call me as soon as you get home, no matter what time it is." He let Barbara pull him into yet another tight hug.

"I'll miss you 'Taire," she told him as he hugged her back, chin resting on the top of her head.

"I'll miss you too mum."

"Oh, give my love to Alana," she remembered suddenly as she pulled away and climbed into the car. "In fact, just give my love to everyone. Tell 'Ferre it's about time he got a ring on Eponine's finger, and Courf that I want an invite to the wedding."

"I will do mum," he promised. "Now go. I'll see you soon." Grantaire stood by the side of the road waving as his mother finally set off for home, sighing again once she was out of sight.

"I love her dearly and sometimes wish she could stay for longer, but she takes hours to say goodbye," he told Enjolras that night as he picked the other man up for their second date. "She could become world famous for it." Enjolras simply chuckled, taking his boyfriend's hand in his.

"You love her for it," he reminded him, kissing his temple as they walked. "So where are we off to this time? Because I seem to remember promising to think something up."

"You can think up the next one, because tonight I am taking you bowling," Grantaire announced. "I'll bet that's something you haven't done in a while."

"True," the blonde admitted, trying to remember the last time. "Not since Courfeyrac dragged us all out for my twentieth. What?" he asked defensively, noticing Grantaire's wide-eyed stare.

"Enj, that was almost eight years ago," he said disbelievingly. "We hadn't even started dating then."

"And? Doesn't mean I can't still be good at it."

In fact, it meant exactly that, Grantaire bursting out laughing half an hour later as Enjolras got his third gutterball in a row.

"Shush," he grumbled, kissing Grantaire in the hopes that it would make him shut up. (It worked).

"Bet you anything I win by over a hundred," Grantaire grinned. Enjolras considered him for a moment, trying to work out how many points he'd be able to claw back.

"I will go on your motorbike with you," he offered finally. Grantaire's eyebrows shot upwards. Enjolras's mistrust and hatred of Grantaire's beloved motorbike was almost legendary, to the point where he had almost considered selling it and taking actual driving lessons.

"And if you win?" he asked cautiously.

"You don't drink for a week."

Grantaire tilted his head to one side as he decided.

"You're on."

* * *

"That was possibly the worst few games of bowling I have ever seen," Grantaire teased as they walked home, the two men practically leaning on each other as they tried to escape the cold out-of-season winds. "You are truly terrible, and owe me a bike ride."

"If I die, I'll haunt you," Enjolras threatened.

"I would never let you die," Grantaire replied seriously. "I know what I'm doing. Trust me."

"I do." When they stopped outside Enjolras's flat, he glanced over at Grantaire. "Want a drink?"

"I thought we were taking things slow."

"We are. I'm just offering a drink."

"Go on then," Grantaire smiled. "Your hot chocolate was always legendary if I recall correctly."

Gavroche smirked up at them both when they entered the flat, turning off the TV and climbing slowly to his feet.

"She's been like an angel this time," he told Enjolras, yawning. "Have a nice night guys." And with a wink at Grantaire he headed out, telling Enjolras that they could sort the money some other time.

"He's grown up into a good kid," Enjolras said quietly, listening outside Alana's door for a moment to make sure she was definitely asleep. "Now you make yourself comfy. One hot chocolate, coming up."

By the time he joined Grantaire on the couch and handed the drink over, Grantaire could feel himself starting to doze off.

"You know, you could just stay the night," Enjolras suggested.

"Taking things slow, remember," Grantaire mumbled, resting his head on Enjolras's shoulder.

"And we've already fallen asleep together three times since I came back home," Enjolras reminded him. "This is no different to last week, or either of the earlier times, we've just had two more dates since then, that's all."

"Then sure thing."

They sat there and chatted whilst drinking, ignoring whatever TV program had been switched on in the background, until they were ready to head through to Enjolras's bedroom. It felt more serious this time than before, actually planning on climbing into the same bed together, moving round the room like opposites as both men stripped down to their boxers and slipped under the sheets together, Grantaire automatically reaching over to pull Enjolras closer.

"Night Enjolras," he murmured, burying his face in Enjolras's hair and muffling his voice enough that Enjolras wasn't entirely sure if he heard the next bit correctly. "Love you."

"Love you too," he whispered in reply, kissing the corner of Grantaire's mouth and hoping he'd heard him right.


	23. I Need You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana starts to ask questions about Enjolras and Grantaire's relationship, Enjolras has to go down to London again, and they have their third date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was due to be posted yesterday morning, but thanks to major political scandals in the next village had to be postponed whilst I was in shock. However, I've made it longer than planned to make up for that.
> 
> Part of this chapter is for sas93, who requested "some more mature scenes with Grantaire and Enjolras". This is your warning. I would also like to apologise - I'm not great at writing porn, but have done the best I can.

Enjolras couldn't bring himself to wake fully next morning when his alarm went off, instead just reaching behind him and hitting the clock until it shut up.

"Do you have work?" Grantaire mumbled, inching closer n the bed until they were completely wrapped together.

"Not till lunch," Enjolras replied, refusing to open his eyes.

"We'll need to get up soon for Allie," Grantaire reminded him.

"I know, but we should have about an hour yet. Go back to sleep." Grantaire willingly obeyed and Enjolras followed soon after.

Just over an hour later, Enjolras was woken by a small tug on his arm.

"Daddy, I'm hungry," Alana said softly. "Is it time for breakfast yet?"

"Five minutes," he sighed, turning his head to look up at her. "Go find some clothes for the day and I'll sort breakfast in five minutes, okay?"

"Okay daddy."

"What time is it?" Grantaire sighed.

"Around eightish." Sitting up, Enjolras stroked Grantaire's curls back and rested his head against the wall behind him. "Feel free to go back to sleep. I'll wake you later."

"Sounds perfect," Grantaire smiled, still with his eyes closed. Enjolras chuckled as he stood and stretched, looking down at Grantaire.

"Lazy sod," he teased.

"And proud. Now go feed your daughter. Well, maybe get dressed first, then feed your daughter."

* * *

"Why were you in bed with Uncle R?" Alana asked when Enjolras was making her breakfast. He hesitated, glancing over at where she was waiting for an answer.

"Well, when you love someone you want to be close to them, no matter what time it is. Me and 'Taire... Well, we went out last night and it was late when we got back so he stayed the night. That's all."

"I knew you loved him," she said happily, smiling at her father. "Just like Uncle Marius said."

"Do me a favour, never tell Marius he was right," Enjolras laughed, ruffling her hair. "Now eat up, Cosette'll be here soon." Turning back to the counter he started sorting the bacon and eggs he was planning on cooking for Grantaire and himself.

Hearing the phone ring he sighed and answered.

"Yeah'lo?"

"Enjolras? It's Iain from work. Hacker's got a job for you."

* * *

"Wakey wakey sleepyhead," Enjolras said with a small smile as he kicked his bedroom door open, the two plates and mugs resting on a tray he hadn't even known he'd owned. "I made breakfast."

"You are an angel in disguise," Grantaire muttered sleepily, pushing himself up onto his elbows and peering through the curls that fell in front of his face. "Is that bacon I smell?"

"It is indeed." Perching on the edge of the bed, he offered Grantaire the nearest plate and mug.

"I think I love you." Grantaire leant up for a slow kiss.

"Eat," Enjolras said firmly, standing and making his way over to his own side of the bed. "Because I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."

"So what's the plan?" Grantaire asked finally, when his plate was empty.

"Not much I'm afraid." Enjolras sighed. "I've already spoken to Cosette, I'm picking Allie up in a couple of hours. Hacker wants me to go down to London with him for about a fortnight."

"He what?" Grantaire coughed and swore as he spilt the mug in his lap. "Fuck! So you'll be away for two weeks?"

"Yeah, from today till the ninth August." He glanced over at Grantaire. "I only just found out."

"So what excitement awaits you there?"

"Oh, it's the party conferences. Hacker said he wanted me there a while back, he just forgot to mention when it was." Leaning over, he kissed Grantaire deeply. "I'm sorry about just springing this on you. I was planning on taking you out again next week, but I suppose it'll have to wait now."

"This is just your way of getting out of that bike ride," Grantaire teased, laughing when Enjolras rolled his eyes.

"I love you, I'm just not sure if I love you that much," he joked in reply.

"A bet is a bet Enjolras."

"I know, and I trust you. I really do."

Grantaire smiled. "You know, I never thought I'd hear you say that." He kissed Enjolras again. "Don't you need to pack?"

"I hate packing," Enjolras groaned.

"Tough. You're the one wants to go away, you can deal with it. I'm going for a shower."

* * *

Exactly two hours later, Enjolras was ready to leave.

"I'll see you on the ninth," he promised, kissing Grantaire at the flat doorway. "Now are you sure you don't want a lift home?"

"Positive," Grantaire said firmly. "I'll see you next month."

"I'll miss you."

"Yeah, you too." Grantaire sighed. "Have fun debating and listening to boring speeches."

"I'll call you later telling you all about it," Enjolras grinned.

Grantaire stood outside the flat watching until Enjolras's car had vanished from sight before he set off walking home. The next fortnight was going to be very long indeed.

* * *

"Skype is a marvellous invention," Grantaire grinned as he set his laptop down on the desk and studied Enjolras's face on the screen. "I also feel like it's been a lot longer than a week since I last saw you, and that we are acting like we are way further into a relationship than two dates and a couple of weeks."

"Well only if you look at it that way," Enjolras replied. "If you look at it another then we've been dating for almost a year, with a six year hiatus in the middle."

"And realistically it's a combination of the two," Grantaire pointed out. "Because we're taking things slowish with it being the first few dates, but we're as comfortable around each other as if we've been dating for months."

"...Why are you making this all technical?"

"You started it!"

"No I didn't!" Enjolras protested. "You're the one commented on the way we're acting."

"...Shut up," Grantaire said after a short pause. "So how's London?"

"You were right, most of the speeches are boring," Enojlras admitted. "But the debates are fun, and I'm learning a lot. I'm thinking of it as networking."

"Persuaded anyone to let you be an MP yet?" Grantaire teased.

"Ha ha, you're so hilariously funny. No."

"Is that Uncle R?" Grantaire heard in the background, and his smile grew.

"I think Allie wants to say hello," Enjolras smiled, picking his daughter up and seating her on his knee.

"Hi Uncle R!" she grinned, waving at him.

"Hey kiddo. How you doin'?"

"I'm good thank you. How are you?" she asked, remembering her manners.

"All the better for seeing you guys. So what you getting up to while your daddy's off at work?"

Enjolras sat back, more than happy to let Alana chatter away about everything she'd been doing with Mrs Dodd, the painting and the baking and days out to places, Grantaire listening intently to every word.

"And I painted you a picture," she said shyly.

"Well I look forward very much to seeing it," Grantaire told her, making her beam.

"Allie, let me have a moment alone with 'Taire, okay?"

"Okay daddy. Bye Uncle R. See you soon."

"See you soon Allie." He sighed when she ran off again. "It sure is quiet up here without her around."

"I'll bet." Enjolras vanished for a moment then returned. "Just closing the door. I miss you."

"I miss you too Enj, but if you're planning on starting any dirty talk, I should warn you that I think Bahorel is about to crash the party on this end. I can hear him outside the door."

Enjolras couldn't help but roll his eyes. "No dirty talk was planned, trust me. Well if you're about to have company, I should probably sign off and look through some papers for tomorrow before tea. Love you."

"Yeah, love you too. I'll see you next week."

Shutting his laptop lid, Grantaire span on his chair and glared at Bahorel who was standing in the door.

"Can I help?"

"Just checking you weren't going mad," Bahorel grinned. "It's the first sign you know, talking to yourself."

"And the second sign is white hairs on the backs of your hands," Grantaire shot back, smirking when Bahorel automatically checked. "Third sign is checking for them." He patted his friend on the back as he passed him on his way out of the room. "Tough luck old friend."

" _Old_ friend?"

"Old fiend then." Grantaire laughed as he had to dash up the stairs, Bahorel charging after him before tackling him to the ground.

"Do you give in?" Bahorel demanded, sitting on Grantaire and tickling him mercilessly.

"Never give up, never surrender!" Grantaire managed to gasp out, writhing under him. "Feuilly!" he squeaked when he saw the other man standing in the kitchen doorway. "Don't just stand there, help!"

"Sorry mate, but you brought this one on yourself," Feuilly laughed. "Have fun."

* * *

The phone ringing woke Grantaire up and he rolled over to grab it, muttering under his breath as he did so. Unknown to him however he'd been asleep right on the edge of the bed, and his movement caused him to fall, crashing to the ground. Swearing loudly and profusely he leaped to his feet and snatched the phone up, jabbing at the green button.

"Yes?" he snapped, voice still slightly groggy from sleep.

"Well aren't you just the most joyful little thing I've ever heard," Enjolras laughed, sounding far too bright and cheerful for that time of day.

"Apollo, it is eight fucking am. I was up until five painting and really wish I were still asleep. What d'ya want?"

"Well there are two reasons for this call. Firstly, I thought you'd like to know we're home. We set off early 'cause Allie was hoping to see you before tonight. Secondly, Alana is spending tonight at a friend's house, so I was going to ask you out on a date, but if you're too tired..." He let the last sentence trail off.

"Got anything in particular planned?" Grantaire asked, finally starting to waken properly as he listened to his boyfriend's voice.

"Well I was thinking of the cinema, seeing as they're showing your favourite film for it's twenty-fifth anniversary. Only problem is that it's a fancy dress thing." Grantaire could practically see the face Enjolras would be pulling.

"Enjolras, it's The Princess Bride. For you, fancy dress is easy. Just wear all black and glare at anyone who comes near us."

"Well who are you going to be?"

Grantaire smiled for the first time since waking up.

"You'll see when I pick you up tonight."

* * *

Grantaire had called round at the flat for lunch and the early afternoon, happily joining in with whatever games Alana wanted to play whilst Enjolras made any business calls he'd been putting off for the last fortnight. When it came time for Alana to leave for her friend's house however he insisted on going home, saying, "I told you you'd see my costume tonight when I picked you up, and I meant it, so I'll see you soon." Grabbing hold of Enjolras's jacket lapel he pulled him in for a quick kiss, keeping it closed mouth due to the fact Alana was watching them curiously. "Laters baby," he smirked, winking at Enjolras as he sauntered off.

"Does kissing mean you love him as well?" Alana asked as soon as they were alone.

"Yes Allie, it does."

"Why?"

Enjolras paused and looked down at his daughter as he thought. "You know what, I really don't know why. It just does. When you like someone romantically, you kiss them."

"But you kiss me," she pointed out then.

"There's more than one type of love. The way I love you is different to how I love Grantaire. When you're older, you'll understand. Now come on, or you'll be late to Madeline's."

* * *

By the time Grantaire rang the doorbell, Enjolras had almost talked himself out of wearing the costume three times. He'd forgotten he even owned the black shirt till he started searching through his wardrobe and the boots had also been long forgotten, but he was thankful they still all fit.

When he opened the door, Grantaire just stared unashamedly. The shirt, true to the film, hung open slightly at the neck and showed far more than Enjolras was normally comfortable with, and his hair had been perfectly styled. The only difference between Enjolras and Wesley was the absence of a moustache.

"Fuck you look hot," Grantaire murmured, almost too quiet for Enjolras to hear him.

"You don't look bad yourself," came the reply, Enjolras looking Grantaire up and down as well. He was clearly Inigo, but Enjolras had the feeling he was going to struggle keeping his eyes on Grantaire's face or even the film instead of the few stray curls of hair he could see poking out from the top of Grantaire's slightly unbuttoned shirt. "How many people do you think you're going to end up threatening dreased up like that?"

"Oh, just about everyone," Grantaire grinned, leaning over to kiss him hello. "Bar you. You did not kill my father, so need not prepare to die."

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Just let me grab the car keys."

"Oh no you don't. I've sorted the transport."

That was when Enjolras noticed the helmets by Grantaire's feet.

"Oh hell no!"

"Oh hell yes," Grantaire replied instantly. "This was a fair bet Enjolras, and you lost, fair and square. Trust me." Bending, he picked up the red helmet and held it out. "Come on Enjolras, you never back down from a challenge. I won't crash."

Enjolras sighed and accepted it. "As you wish."

Grantaire grinned and kissed him again. "Damn but you make one hot Wesley."

"Shut up or I'll call you Buttercup. If you want me on that death trap, we need to go now, because me accepting that helmet is a short term offer only."

"Let's go." Grantaire grabbed his hand and dragged him away from the flat, only allowing him time to lock the door before they were down the stairs and out of the building. Grantaire pulled his own helmet on and smirked at Enjolras. "Such a shame that this will probably ruin your hair. Now put the helmet on and climb on behind me."

"If you kill me, I will haunt you," Enjolras threatened, but he did as Grantaire said, wrapping his arms round Grantaire's waist tightly.

"You are such a freaking baby," Grantaire laughed, patting Enjolras's hand lightly. "You are not going to die." And with that, he turned the key, revved the bike engine and set off. Enjolras's hold tightened as he squeezed his eyes shut, praying to a god he didn't believe in to keep them alive and safe.

"Enjolras? Uh, Apollo, we're here. You can let go now."

Slowly Enjolras opened his eyes and blinked up at Grantaire, noticing the smile on the other man's face and that he'd already taken his helmet off.

"Told you you'd live," he chuckled, kissing Enjolras's nose as he slowly peeled his arms away and pushed the front of his helmet up.

"I hate you," Enjolras muttered, pulling the helmet off properly.

"I know, now hurry it up. I don't want to miss the beginning of the film."

"You can quote the entire thing backwards. Missing the beginning is no big deal," Enjolras pointed out.

"And? Doesn't mean I want to miss it, now move that fine ass."

Both laughing, the pair made their way into the cinema, linking their arms as they went.

* * *

"So why is that your favourite film?" Enjolras asked when they were leaving the cinema, glancing over at his boyfriend as they stopped next to the bike. "It's not like the stuff you normally like, not enough stuff being blown up."

"That film was still fairly new when I first saw it," Grantaire explained. "I was about six and was ill, a virus of some sort. It's one of my earliest memories of my dad in a fatherly role instead of him just being drunk. He tucked me up in their bed, put the video on and sat there watching it with me. He'd just bought it, having read the book when he was younger. I fell asleep part way through but the next day he put it on for me again when I asked. Ever since then, it just became routine. Whenever I was ill he'd put me in their bed and let me watch it, often watching it with me. It wasn't long before I knew the film by heart. After my dad died, watching that film made me feel slightly better." He shrugged. "I ended up watching it practically every other week sometimes. It's been my favourite film ever since."

"I had no idea it was so important to you," Enjolras whispered, kissing him softly. "I'm glad we came tonight."

"So am I," Grantaire smiled, knocking his forehead against Enjolras's. "So am I. Now get on the bloody bike."

Enjolras didn't argue.

* * *

They crashed through the door of his flat, already kissing desperately as Enjolras kicked the door shut behind him.

"Fuck," Grantaire gasped as Enjolras moved his attention down to the triangle of flesh which had been distracting him all night, moving the fabric aside to brush his lips against one collarbone gently. "Goddammit Enjolras, you can't do this to me." His hips bucked upwards as Enjolras smirked and grazed his teeth against his skin.

"Fuck taking things slow," Enjolras breathed into his ear. "I need you 'Taire. It's been too long."

Grantaire practically growled, tongue slipping past Enjolras's lips as he pulled his face across to kiss him again.

"Bedroom," he managed, only breaking away from Enjolras for a moment. "Unless you want to be fucked against the wall."

Together they made their way down the hallway, kisses only growing more heated as they entered the bedroom and fell down onto the bed.

"I love you," Grantaire whispered, kissing his way down Enjolras's chest as he unbuttoned the black shirt. "I love you oh god I love you." He pushed the shirt off Enjolras's shoulders as the blonde sat up and started on Grantaire's own shirt, actions growing desperate as fingers moved down to belts and trouser buttons. Pushing Enjolras back down onto the bed, Grantaire pulled both trousers and boxers down in one quick movement, taking him in his mouth immediately. Enjolras moaned, head falling back as his hands gripped at Grantaire's hair and tugged lightly. Grantaire smiled at the reaction his actions were getting before swirling his tongue, winning another low moan.

"No," Enjolras murmured, reluctantly pulling Grantaire up. "No, not tonight. Not now. Please, Grantaire."

"We need lube then," Grantaire said softly.

"Bedside, top drawer." Enjolras stared up at the ceiling as he waited for Grantaire to get back, gasping as he felt the cool finger pressing against his hole. "Fuck," he hissed, hips moving up automatically as it slowly slipped inside. Grantaire continued to move carefully, waiting a couple of minutes before pulling it out and sliding a second in with the first. He kept his eyes on Enjolras's the whole time, scissoring his fingers to open Enjolras up before inserting a third as well. He kept on going until Enjolras was writhing beneath him, pleading for more, then he pulled his fingers out and pushed down his trousers, ripping open the condom packet he'd found with the lube with his teeth.

Enjolras had barely caught his breath when Grantaire was pushing into him, both men groaning as they adjusted. "Fuck Enjolras, you're so tight," Grantaire breathed, kissing him as he started to thrust, slowly at first but soon speeding up as Enjolras moved his hips up to meet him, a familiar pace which had almost been forgotten over the years settling in. Enjolras's fingers dug into Grantaire's back, Grantaire's holding Enjolras's hips to allow him to move faster, neither caring of the marks that would surely be left. Grantaire started to kiss a path down Enjolras's neck as Enjolras cried out, Grantaire hitting the right spot inside of him. As he felt his orgasm approaching Grantaire bite down on Enjolras neck, causing another moan.

"Grantaire, please," Enjolras begged, and Grantaire let go of one hip, moving the hand inbetween them to grasp Enjolras's cock, hand moving in time with his thrusts as he felt himself grow closer and closer to the edge. Suddenly Enjolras came, spurting over Grantaire's hand as he shouted something that was almost the other man's name, the muscles tightening around Grantaire enough to send him over as well. "Enjolras," he gasped, collapsing on top of him.

"I love you," Enjolras whispered, kissing his temple tiredly. "Now get off me you fat lump."

Grantaire chuckled but rolled to the side. "And the romance is dead already," he joked. "For that, you can go get a cloth to clean yourself up." He whistled as Enjolras rolled his eyes and stood, pulling open a drawer at the other side of the room. "Nice view," he called over, grinning at his lover.

"Down boy," Enjolras laughed, cleaning himself up before throwing the towel over at Grantaire and sliding back into bed beside him. Pulling the quilt up over them both he curled around Grantaire's side, resting his head on Grantaire's shoulder.

"I'm glad you came home," Grantaire said softly, eyes already slipping shut.

"Me too," Enjolras agreed. "Me too."

The two men were asleep within minutes, both incredibly pleased with how life was turning out.

* * *

Grantaire was woken next morning by a warm heat surrounding his dick and he pushed himself up onto his elbows, smiling tiredly down at Enjolras. The next moment he was falling back down again as Enjolras swirled his tongue and the sensation of pleasure swept over Grantaire. Enjolras took his time, occasionally pulling away to lick a stripe up the underneath of Grantaire's cock before taking him in his mouth again, using all the old tricks he could remember to bring his lover to climax as Grantaire gripped the sheets with one hand, the other tangling itself in Enjolras's hair as best it could. When the orgasm came Grantaire tightened both grips, shooting down Enjolras's throat.

Licking his lips obscenely Enjolras moved up to kiss Grantaire. "You looked like you needed it," he murmured, smirking.

"You know, I might grow to like mornings if I woke up like that more often," Grantaire joked, trailing his fingers down Enjolras's arm to lace their fingers together.

"Mmhmm." With one last kiss, Enjolras pulled away. "I fancy a shower." He quirked one eyebrow at Grantaire before leaving the room, door left wide open behind him so Grantaire could watch him go. Grantaire grinned to himself.

"You lucky bastard," he muttered to himself, before jumping out of bed and following.

* * *

Enjolras was distracted the whole day at work, absentmindedly rubbing the red marks left on his neck from the night before as he read through the speech the prime minister had made the previous week about some of the latest scandels to sweep the world of politics. When three o'clock finally rolled around it was the first time since starting the job that Enjolras left on time, shocking Combeferre who was sat waiting for him with Courfeyrac.

"Waiting committee?" Enjolras asked, raising one eyebrow. "What've I done?"

"We saw Grantaire earlier," Courfeyrac smirked. "How was last night?"

"Mind your own business," Enjolras retorted, before allowing a soft smile to cross his lips. "Good."

"Just good?" Enjolras hadn't even noticed Jehan walk up behind him. The poet looked heartbroken at Enjolras's words. "He's the love of your live! Surely it was more than good."

"Are you about to start sprouting poetry?" Enjolras asked worriedly. "Because, you know, if you are, I'd really prefer it if you aimed it at your fiance instead. And this is me and 'Taire, Jehan. You should know by now that we don't really do the whole romance thing. Saying "I love you" is enough."

"Boring sod," Courfeyrac muttered, accepting the flower Jehan tucked behind his ear with a beam. Enjolras was greatful when his phone buzzed and he could try and avoid any more awkward questions Courfeyrac may have been about to throw his way.

**Grantaire:** _Hey, how was work? Look, 'Ferre and Courf may show up when you're leaving, they kinda ran into me earlier and put two and two together. I'm blaming you. But, yeah, sorry and all._

**Grantaire:** _If you want a coffee or something, I'm at the Musain with Bahorel, Feuilly and Joly. Joly said he had news to give us all, I think most of the others are all making their way here as well so if you want you can ask the guys with you (if they are with you) to join us as well. :)_

**Enjolras:** _They are here, and Jehan is starting to talk about romance. =.= I totally blame you. But yeah. See you soon. :)_

**Grantaire:** _We're sat outside, taking advantage of the weather, so you'll definitely see us. :) <3_

Enjolras hadn't even realised he was smiling until Combeferre chuckled.

"Texting anyone in particular?" he asked innocently.

"Joly apparently has news for us all and is outside the Musain with Bahorel, Feuilly and Grantaire," Enjolras told them, ignoring his friend's comment. "Shall we?"

"May as well, we're only a few blocks away," Combeferre shrugged, glancing at Courfeyrac and Jehan. "Guys?"

"Sounds good," Courfeyrac replied, hooking his arm into Jehan's as they set off, following Combeferre and Enjolras.

"So I take it you guys are good again," Combeferre said softly, glancing over at Enjolras.

"Combeferre, I haven't felt this content with life in years," Enjolras replied just as quietly, smiling to himself. "Yes, I know we still have some issues to sort out, but I think things are going to work out just fine."

"Well that's a relief. I was dreading having to pass bad news on to Barbara," Combeferre said dryly, smiling over at his best friend. The pair slipped into comfortable conversation as they walked, ignoring the flirting going on behind them as they chatted about random topics. Enjolras's face lit up when they turned the corner and he saw Grantaire outside the bar with their friends. Glancing left and right he checked for any oncoming traffic before setting off across the road towards them when he saw the road was clear.

He was about halfway across when the van shot round the corner, travelling about twenty miles over the speed limit as it hit Enjolras full on.


	24. Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the road accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So wow, just wow at the feedback I got last chapter. The number of comments persuaded me to write this as soon as I got home from work, so enjoy.

Combeferre missed the van racing round the corner. As Enjolras started to cross the road towards Grantaire he turned to talk to Courfeyrac and Jehan, laughing at a joke Courfeyrac was making. The first he knew was the squeal of brakes interrupted by a thud, and Combeferre's blood ran cold as he saw the looks of horror on his friend's faces. It felt like time had slowed right down as he turned, an eternity passing before he was facing the road and the scene sank in.

"Enjolras," he choked out, stumbling forwards unthinkingly. Arms suddenly fastened around his waist, stopping him before he ended up off the pavement and in the path of a passing car. Combeferre fought against Courfeyrac, calling him every name he could think of as he tried desperately to get free and reach his friend. Faintly he heard a strangled cry and, as the traffic on their side of the road finally stopped, he caught sight of Bahorel kneeling by the side of a fainted Grantaire. Joly had already reached Enjolras and was busy examining him, Jehan running over to help. One look at Enjolras was all it took for Combeferre to quit fighting, instead slumping into Courfeyrac's arms as he stared.

"He looks dead." Courfeyrac couldn't prevent the horrified whisper from slipping out, tightening his hold on his friend as Combeferre shuddered at the words. "Sorry," he mumbled. "He'll be fine. Joly knows what he's doing, Feuilly's called an ambulance and they'll be here soon." Courfeyrac babbled on, trying to convince himself as much as Combeferre. Bahorel was doing the same on the opposide pavement, forcibly holding Grantaire down as he fought wildly.

"Get the fuck off me!" Combeferre heard Grantaire scream. Slowly looking up Combeferre stood, pulling away from Courfeyrac as he did so and heading over to the crowd now gathered in the centre of the road. Crouching by Jehan, he rested a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"How long?"

His voice was cracked and hoarse from shouting at Courfeyrac, and filled with an emotion he didn't want to face - fear.

"They're on their way. Five minutes. Hopefully." The poet glanced up, a look of grief on his face. "Joly thinks he might last long enough."

_Might._

The word echoed round Combeferre's head until he could hear nothing else. For the first time in his life, Combeferre found himself praying, simply on the off-chance that it may help save his best friend's life.

To the outsiders who had crowded round to find out what was happening it looked bad, the blood matting his blonde hair and pooling out from underneath his head drawing everyone's attention instantly and the Amis could hear some debating as to whether Enjolras was even still alive.

To the Amis though, it was a nightmare. They had never been more thankful that one of them was a doctor, but seeing their friend like this was destroying them inside. Courfeyrac had reached the van and pulled the driver out, venting his worry through yelling angrily at him and refusing to allow him the chance to get a word in edgeways.

"I daren't put him in recovery position," Joly muttered to himself distractedly. "Hey, Jehan, come sit over here. I need you to have his head in your lap, okay? And keep it tilted back slightly, so nothing can block his airways. Yeah, just like that." He looked up at Feuilly. "Where the hell is that ambulance?"

"She just keeps saying it's on its way," Feuilly replied shortly, knuckles turning white from how tightly he was holding the phone as he paced round in a circle.

"Fuck!" they all heard Bahorel exclaim, Grantaire leaping to his feet and pulling away as his lucky punch caused Bahorel to loosen his grip slightly. In seconds Grantaire was on his knees next to Enjolras, face grey as one hand clasped Enjolras's, the other cupping Enjolras's cheek.

"He's so cold," Grantaire whispered, not even noticing his friends he was so focused on Enjolras. "He shouldn't be this cold. He's fire, not ice."

"ETA three minutes!" Feuilly called over then, his look of annoyance at the emergency services woman on the phone fading slightly.

"Don't die," Grantaire continued, voice still low and rough. "You can't die. You promised." His voice rose and shook as he stared down at his lover who looked almost dead. "You said you'd never leave me again. You fucking promised Enjolras! You can't leave me you bastard, you just can't!" Grantaire's forehead touched Enjolras's chest as he hunched over and sobbed helplessly, hand moving from Enjolras's face to clutch desperately at his shirt. The group of friends had never felt more useless as they just stood there and watched, none of them knowing what words to offer to try and help the broken man in front of them.

"Er, Joly?" Jehan said suddenly, voice high and nervous. "I don't think he's breathing."

"Get Grantaire out of the way," Joly ordered instantly, checking Enjolras's airways again as Bahorel and Feuilly did as Joly said. Grantaire simply hung between them, lacking the energy and willpower to fight back this time as he just stared at Joly starting CPR. "Combeferre, you know First Aid. I need you to either breathe for him or do chest compressions. I don't care which, just choose now." Combeferre moved automatically, like he was in a dream, kneeling beside Jehan and pinching Enjolras's nose before covering his mouth and blowing air into his lungs. "Just keep doing that," Joly told him, busy pressing down on Enjolras's chest. "That bloody ambulance had better arrive soon."

They'd been keeping Enjolras alive for just over a minute, Joly instructing Jehan to check for a pulse every ten seconds, when the ambulance finally arrived, the siren drowning out all the murmurs of the crowd who were still gathered round watching.

"We can take over from here," the first paramedic on the scene said softly, catching hold of Joly's hands as he continued with compressions, working on autopilot as he looked blankly up at her. Combeferre moved back as the second medic placed an oxygen mask over Enjolras's face. "He's breathing!" the paramedic called over his shoulder, and Joly slowed then stopped, shoulders sagging as he sighed with relief. "You've saved his life," the woman continued. "But now we need you all to give us some space."

"Will he live?" Jehan asked softly.

"If he's lucky," came the reply.

It was only then that Joly noticed the police had arrived and taken the van driver off to take his statement. Courfeyrac and Feuilly were talking to a constable, explaining what they'd seen happen, and Grantaire was still watching proceedings numbly, having sank to his knees again when Feuilly had moved away but with Bahorel resting his hands on his shoulders lightly, offering him what support he could through the touch. Combeferre was still white but refused to look away from the two paramedics carefully moving his friend onto a stretcher, simply folding his arms across his chest as if they alone were enough to stop himself from falling apart. Joly had refused to move away, instead offering his help to the medics when they brought out the stretcher, explaining that he was a doctor when they'd looked doubtful. It wasn't that he didn't trust them, it was just that he couldn't cope with having to sit back and watch a complete stranger look after his friend when there was something he could do.

"Can we come with him?" Combeferre asked finally, when Enjolras had been loaded onto the ambulance and the male paramedic was hooking him up to various machines.

"Family only I'm afraid," she said apologetically.

"He's his partner," Joly replied immediately, pointing at Grantaire. "And this man is practically his brother. His own family wouldn't give a damn, and these are the closest he has."

She sighed. "One in the front, one in the back," she allowed after a moment's consideration. "And this never happened, okay? I'm breaking half the rules through letting you do this."

"'Taire?" Combeferre said quietly, walking over and touching the other man on the shoulder. "You need to get up, they're letting us go with him."

"I can stay with him?" Grantaire mumbled, looking up hopefully.

"Yeah, you can stay with him." Combeferre helped Grantaire climb up into the ambulance next to Enjolras before climbing into the front seat himself. Grantaire sat silently throughout the entire journey, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth as he held Enjolras's hand tightly.

Everything was fine until they were almost at the hospital. Grantaire found himself suddenly pushed to one side, the two paramedics fussing around Enjolras for thirty seconds before he managed to work out what the problem was - Enjolras had flatlined.

"Epinephrine!" the woman yelled quickly at the other paramedic, starting CPR again. Grantaire couldn't stop the tears from starting again as a silent mantra started up in his head. _'Don't be dead, don't die, don't die, you can't die, don't die, please don't die.'_

By the time they'd pulled into A&E Enjolras's heart was beating again. Grantaire hadn't even realised he'd stopped breathing until he took in a deep breath when the machine started beeping again, the paramedics sighing with relief. Grantaire and Combeferre were both left behind  as they rushed Enjolras straight into the building and down numerous corridors to the nearest empty theatre.

"You guys can wait in here," the driver told them, leading them through to a waiting room.

Noticing the new tear marks on Grantaire's face Combeferre pulled him into a hug. "He's going to be okay," he soothed, not caring how wet his shirt became as Grantaire wept again.

"I'm scared," Grantaire whispered. "He can't die. I don't know what I'd do if he did."

"He won't die." Combeferre wasn't just talking to Grantaire. "He's got too much to live for. Now come on, sit down. I need to text everyone and tell them where we are."

* * *

**Courfeyrac:** _Ep, Marius, get your asses over here pronto. We're at the Musain with no transport and need to get to the hospital._

**Eponine:** _What the fuck happened?_

**Marius:** _Yeah, what she said._

**Courfeyrac:** _Enjolras got knocked over, now stop texting and start driving!_

**Cosette:** _Who has Alana?_

**Courfeyrac:** _I honestly don't know, I was kinda assuming you did as both Grantaire and Enjolras were with us._

**Cosette:** _She must still be with her friend then. Tell Grantaire I'll pick her up, Enjolras passed the address on in case he couldn't make it out of work in time._

**Courfeyrac:** _You are an angel. I'll keep you informed._

**Combeferre:** _Guys, we're in a private waiting room just to the left of the waiting room. He's in surgery at the minute._

* * *

Combeferre couldn't believe how quiet the group was when they entered the room, with even Courfeyrac and Bahorel acting subdued.

"Any news?" Marius asked worriedly.

"He's still in the theatre," Combeferre sighed, wrapping his arms round Eponine when she ran over to him. "It's not looking good," he murmured, eyes flicking over to Grantaire to make sure he hadn't heard.

Joly had made his way straight over to Grantaire, sitting next to the artist and taking his hands in his, worried eyes studying his depressed expression. He spoke to him in a low voice, attempting to assure him that everything was going to be okay, that head injuries always looked a lot worse than they actually were, that if anyone was going to pull through something like this then it was Enjolras. The rest of the group arranged themselves around the room, mostly in their couples but with Marius sat with Bahorel and Feuilly, each trying to keep everyone else's spirits up as they waited nervously for news, be it good or bad.

When the doctor walked in, everyone was on their feet in seconds, Grantaire taking a half-step forwards, an expression of hope crossing his face.

"Are any of you family?" the doctor asked, his perfect poker face stopping them from working out what his news was going to be.

"Grantaire's his partner, Dr. Bailey," Joly said quietly, smiling tiredly at his colleague.

"If I could talk to you outside then," Dr. Bailey said to Grantaire, holding the door open for him. As soon as it had swung shut behind them and they were alone in the corridor he started speaking. "The good news is he pulled through the surgery."

"Thank you god," Grantaire breathed, relaxing slightly.

"His injuries are extensive though," the doctor continued. "He has three cracked ribs and two broken, along with a shattered ankle, dislocated shoulder and broken arm, leg and wrist. As well as that there is extreme bruising and some rather nasty cuts, and much internal bleeding and a serious injury to the back of the head."

"But he's alive?" Grantaire double checked.

"He's alive."

Grantaire paused when he saw the serious look on Dr. Bailey's face.

"I get the feeling there's more to say," he said quietly.

"The wound to his head has caused some trauma to his brain. Enough to put him in a coma," the doctor explained bluntly. "I don't know how long it will last for or even if he will wake up from it. Are you okay?" Grantaire had turned grey again at the final words.

"You-you might need to e-explain this all to C-Combeferre as well," he stammered, rubbing his face with one hand as he tried to take in this final piece of news. Slowly he followed Dr. Bailey back into the waiting room, leaning against the wall numbly as the doctor asked to talk to Combeferre.

"'Taire?" Courfeyrac asked worriedly, hurrying over as Combeferre left the room. "Are you okay?"

"He's in a coma," Grantaire muttered, looking up at him. "He's in a fucking coma." He looked round the room, meeting everyone's eyes. "What do I do?" he asked desperately. No-one knew what to say in answer.

"Give me a minute," Joly murmured, patting Grantaire's shoulder on his way out. When he returned a few minutes later he looked a little brighter. "Okay, so you and 'Ferre can go in to see him before we go home. The rest of us will have to wait till tomorrow I'm afraid. You can't stay for long, but you can at least see for yourself he's still alive."

"Thank you," Grantaire whispered, hugging him impulsively.

* * *

Seeing Enjolras didn't really make either man feel much better. Combeferre was still in a state of shock at the idea of his oldest friend maybe not pulling through, and his first thought upon entering the room was that Enjolras almost looked dead. Grantaire simply made his way over to the chair and perched on the edge, taking Enjolras's hand in his and squeezing it lightly.

"I love you," he whispered. "Please wake up. If not for me then for Alana."

"So what do you think will happen with Alana?" Combeferre asked, resting a hand on Grantaire's shoulder as he stood behind him like an overprotective father.

"I'll look after her," Grantaire decided, not looking away from Enjolras's face. "I'll stay at the flat. She needs things to stay as normal as possible, considering she's never spent this much time away from her father before." In the time it'd taken for Combeferre to be informed of the situation in it's entirity and the nurses to make sure Enjolras was fit for visitors, Grantaire had had the chance to try and wrap his head around the facts of the matter, coming to the conclusion that him falling apart wasn't going to help anything, least of all Enjolras.

"Are you sure?" Combeferre asked gently. "I mean-"

"I will manage," Grantaire interrupted. "I won't fall apart if that's what you're worried about. I can look after her, I know I can. I'm quitting drinking now, properly. Nevermind cutting down, I can't do that if Allie's around."

"What are you going to tell her?"

Grantaire's shoulder's fell slightly.

"I honestly don't know," he admitted. "The truth maybe. Enjolras would never have hidden it from her."

"You're not Enjolras."

"No, but she's still his daughter."

"What if he never wakes up?"

"Don't say that!" Grantaire snapped, rounding on Combeferre with eyes flashing furiously. "He has to wake up! He has to, do you hear me? If just because a world without him in it is a world not worth living in. He makes everything brighter."

"I'm just trying to be realistic," Combeferre said softly. "I want him to wake up just as much as you do, but we have to prepare ourselves for the worst, just in case." He glanced over at Enjolras and sighed, noticing how the stark white bandage wrapped around Enjolras's head almost blended in with the skin of his face. "The only good thing about the coma is it will give his body chance to heal without Enjolras's impatienceness getting in the way."

Grantaire couldn't help but smile. "True," he said quietly. "So very true."

* * *

Grantaire didn't say anything when he first picked Alana up, just telling her her father was busy. He gratefully accepted the offer of a lift from Marius and spent the journey back to Enjolras's flat in the same way he'd spent the journey from the hospital to the Pontmercy's, trying to work out which words to use to tell Alana what had happened.

"Where's my daddy?" she asked once they were inside and it was obvious Enjolras wasn't there.

"Allie, you know how when you're ill you sleep a lot," Grantaire started, crouching so he was on the same level as her. She nodded and waited for him to continue. "Well, your daddy is ill. He got injured and because of that he's very ill, and so he's sleeping to try and get better. Only because he's very ill, we don't know how long he'll sleep for. It could be a couple of days, or it could be a couple of weeks or even months."

"Or years?" Alana asked scaredly.

"I sure hope not," Grantaire sighed, pulling Alana into a hug when he saw her lip trembling. "He's going to be okay Allie. He's got you to wake up for, and he would never leave you."

"Is he going to die?" Alana whispered.

"No!" Grantaire insisted. "No, sweetie, he's not going to die."

"But your mummy said that when you die you go to sleep and don't wake up."

"Your father is going to wake up," Grantaire told her firmly. "Trust me."

"I trust you Uncle R," she said finally, hugging him back and burying her face in his shoulder. "Are you going to be looking after me then?"

"Yeah, that's right." He stroked her hair back softly. "I'll be here, I promise. I love you kiddo."

"Love you too Uncle R."

"Now come on, it's past your bedtime."

Grantaire managed to stay strong until just after he'd put Alana to bed, when he decided to succumb to the exhaustion he felt and was standing in the doorway of the master bedroom. Everything about this room screamed Enjolras to Grantaire, and it was all he could do not to just break down there and then. Instead he forced himself to cross the room to the bed, sitting down on the edge of what had already become his side of the bed, even though he'd only slept there three times. Brushing his hand across the other pillow, he quickly moved away again, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall as he stripped and got ready to sleep, sliding under the sheets as soon as he was. He couldn't help the wave of loneliness that swept over him then though, and he was unable to stop himself from reaching over and pulling Enjolras's pillow towards him, burying his face in it and breathing in deeply. Even though Grantaire had no more tears left inside him the sobs still ripped through him, escaping through the hand he pressed to his mouth to try and stifle them. When he finally stilled over half an hour had passed and Grantaire fell asleep still clutching the pillow to his chest, spending the night in a series of nightmares, each one growing progressively worse until Enjolras was dying every few minutes in Grantaire's dreams.


	25. I Can Cope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire gets used to looking after Alana and not drinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to having to head out I haven't time to edit this, so sorry for any mistakes.

The alarm still went off far too early for Grantaire's liking but he didn't complain, simply sighing as he rolled over and hit the clock, almost knocking it off the beside table as he did so. It took several minutes before he'd worked up the will to drag himself out of bed and into the shower but the hot water did the trick, knocking him fully into the land of consciousness. He dressed quickly as he glanced over at the time again. Six thirty am. Going through the jobs he needed to get done, Grantaire tried to work out if he could get them all done in the hour he had before Alana woke up.

He wasn't sure how but Alana woke at almost exactly the same time every day. Grantaire's theory was that it was due to years of Enjolras working and having to drop Alana off with his neighbour or nursery at the same time every day.

Making his way through to the kitchen, Grantaire stuck a pot of coffee on to brew as he pushed his hair off his face and started the washing up he'd ignored from the night before. After half a week in Enjolras's flat he knew his way round pretty well and so the job was over a lot quicker than the first time he'd attempted it, when he'd spent over an hour just trying to find the right cupboards to put the plates, cups and pans away in.

Grantaire poured himself a strong coffee the second the washing up was completed, gratefully dropping into a chair as he took the first sip. He'd barely managed to relax when he heard the noises from down the hall. He sighed, placing the cup down before heading into Alana's room.

"Morning Uncle R," Alana smiled, bouncing over and hugging him tightly as he entered.

"Morning kiddo," he replied, ruffling her hair lightly. "Sleep well?" He smiled when she nodded. "Oh good. Come on, let's get you some clothes sorted, then I'll make breakfast while you dress."

"Pancakes?" she asked instantly, remembering her manners just after. "Please?"

"I'll think about it," he said, laughing quietly when she perked up at his words.

"Can I see daddy today?" she said as he started opening drawers, and Grantaire hesitated.

"Not today," he said finally. "Soon."

* * *

"You look exhausted," Eponine said quietly, studying Grantaire's face as he sat at their kitchen table.

"It's been a long few days," he murmured in reply, rubbing at his eyes with one hand in an attempt to focus fully, a half-empty mug of coffee clutched firmly in the other. "I have no idea how Enjolras manages it all, with work as well. Looking after children just takes up so much time. She keeps asking after him as well."

"Well, at least you'll be able to tell her something after today." Eponine gave his face another once over. "'Taire, you looking after Alana should in no way be making you this tired, not after only a few days. How's the quitting going?"

Grantaire sighed. "Could be better, could be worse." He shrugged. "In the overall scheme of things it's not that important right now."

"Better or worse than last time?" she continued, learning more from his second shrug than she could have from his words.

"Depends."

"We need to go," she announced suddenly, surprising him as he'd been expecting a lot more questions. "I've errands to run before heading to the hospital."

"Okay then, let's go," Grantaire replied, downing the rest of his coffee in one and standing. "And thank you again for this. I know you probably have better things to be doing than playing taxi for me."

"'Taire, shut up and get in the damn car," Eponine sighed. "You're a good friend, as is Enjolras, and while either of you needs help, I will be here. Understood?" Grantaire nodded silently. "Good. Now why aren't you in the car yet?" She raised one eyebrow expectantly, snorting with laughter in a very unladylike way when he saluted her.

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!"

* * *

"I do not need to see Joly!" Grantaire protested when he realised where they were.

"Oh really?" Eponine raised one eyebrow at him. "You are going to fall apart Grantaire, you need help with this."

"I can cope."

"And if you can't? What happens to Alana then?"

Grantaire paused for a moment before sighing and climbing out of the car. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

Joly took one look at them when he opened the door and stood to one side. "Come in," he said as a greeting. "What do you need?"

"She thinks I'm struggling," Grantaire said without interest, flopping down onto Joly's sofa as soon as they were inside his flat. Eponine hung back, letting Joly ask the questions as the doctor sat next to his friend.

"You are," Joly told him bluntly. "I only have to look at how much your hands are shaking to know that. How are you sleeping?"

"Take a guess."

"Okay, you're not.

"No shit." He sighed when Joly gave him A Look. "I'm sleeping a bit, but I'm lucky if I manage to get two hours a night."

"Keep talking. I can't help if I don't know how bad it is."

"I'm fine!" Grantaire tried insisting, but Joly's expression told him that it wasn't working. "Fine. Remember how bad it was last time? Well, it's worse, both the way I feel and the craving to drink. He waved a hand up at his head. "This hurts almost constantly, and I've yet to survive an entire day without being sick. I'm used to all those from last time though."

"And how's the depression?"

"What are you, my shrink? It's completely hidden from Alana, along with the rest of the symptoms." He tilted his head to one side slightly. "You know, you guys really do know too much about me."

Joly laughed quietly. "Too true. So what's new? Because last time you had all these problems but managed, and you were completely alone then. No Enjolras, no Alana, no anyone."

"I keep seeing snakes," he admitted finally in a whisper, after glancing round the room. "Everywhere. I fucking hate snakes. And having nightmares. The nightmares are never ending, when I actually manage to fall asleep that is."

"What kind of nightmares?"

Grantaire shook his head firmly. "No. No way. It's all I can do to forget the bloody things, I'm not gonna start remembering them now for you. Look, what else do you actually need to know?"

"I think I have enough." Standing, Joly made his way over to some drawers and started searching through the top one. "I'm prescribing you some tablets. You can take half a tablet thee times a day for a few days. The next few days are going to be the most serious. You've already have hallucinations, the last thing we need is for the symptoms to become delirium tremens." He quickly explained when he saw the blank expression on his friends' faces. "The symptoms for delirium tremens can include confusion, disorientation, hallucinations, hyperactivity, and maybe even heart attacks and strokes. Look, once DT starts, there is no medical treatment that can stop them and there's a large chance you could die. So you are going to take these tablets and keep me updated, but the second you start to sick or dependent on them you stop immediately, understood?"

"Joly, what the hell are you giving me?" Grantaire asked nervously, hesitating before accepting the box Joly held out.

"Valium."

"What the fuck? I am not taking drugs!" Grantaire yelled, jumping to his feet as Eponine's eyebrows shot up.

"This is something doctors prescribe to those with severe symptoms, like yours. Don't exceed the dosage I said and you'll be fine. Trust me. Now you guys need to leave or visiting time will be over before you reach the hospital."

"Thanks," Grantaire said, reluctantly putting the tablets in his pocket. "I mean it. Thanks. If I think I need more... help, I'll get in touch."

"No you won't," Joly said simply, knowing Grantaire well enough to know that if he needed more help, he would have to be dragged over to a doctor.

"Yeah, I won't," Grantaire agreed. "See you later Joly."

* * *

When they finally reached the ward, Eponine hung back, telling Grantaire to go on without her.

"I have a friend works in here, haven't seen her in weeks," she said as an explanation. "I might pop by later." In reality she just wanted to give him some time alone with Enjolras.

Grantaire almost didn't enter the room. He hovered by the door, telling himself Enjolras wouldn't look as bad as he had the day of the accident.

He was right. Enjolras looked worse.

Many of the open wounds had started to heal and so were now unbandaged, drawing Grantaire's eyes instantly. Enjolras's blankets were only drawn up to his waist, revealing the numerous red gashes scattered across his chest and arms, only a few hidden by the only bandage remaining on his side. His face was also littered with small cuts, his hair shaved away to give doctors access to his head.

"Why are there so many wounds?" Grantaire murmured to himself, perching in the chair placed next to the bed and taking Enjolras's hand in his own.

"He hit the van and ground hard," a calm voice said from behind, and he turned his head to face the nurse standing there. "Some of the injuries on his chest are from broken ribs which broke the skin, other are purely from hitting the ground, some are from the window of the van. When he was hit the van was travelling so fast that he must have flown up into the air slightly then come down on the window first, breaking it before rolling off to hit the ground, because there were shards of glass in some of the cuts." She spoke gently, understanding somehow that Enjolras was important to Grantaire.

"I don't remember what happened," Grantaire said softly, turning back to his boyfriend. "Not properly, not at first."

"I'll leave you two to it," she decided after a moment. "I can perform the checks later."

"Wait," he called after her. "Is he okay? I mean, other than the whole coma thing. I just... need to know he's okay."

"His body is healing. Slowly, but he is healing. I cannot say for sure how his mind will be until he's awake though, and we don't know when that will be."

"Thank you," Grantaire said with a small smile. He waited until they were alone again before talking. "Hey Enj. You know, I don't think I've ever seen you move so little. You'd hate it if you knew what were happening. Allie's doing okay. She misses you, asks about you every day, but otherwise she's okay. It's hard though, looking after her. I'm scared I won't be able to do what's right, that I'll mess things up in some way. I'm glad I didn't let her come today though. Maybe when some of these wounds have healed. She told me she was scared of you dying. Have you any idea how hard it is to persuade her that's not going to happen when I spend almost every second terrified of that myself? Oh yeah, and I should tell you. I kinda moved into your flat. Don't get mad, it's just to look after Alana. Figured that was simpler than bringing her into our house. Less stress on her." He laughed quietly. "God I feel stupid. You probably can't even hear me. 'Ferre and Courf had a huge debate on this the other day, on whether you can hear us or not. I'm not sure who won, or who was even arguing which side, I was sort of out of it at the time, but I'm just gonna hope you can hear me. I feel less crazy that way." Taking a deep breath, Grantaire squeezed Enjolras's hand lightly. "Please wake up. I miss you. I love you."

"'Taire?"

Grantaire glanced over at the door as Eponine interrupted the silence that had fallen when he stopped speaking.

"Visiting time ended ten minutes okay," she told him, walking over and resting her hand on his shoulder. "How is he?"

"Same as before. Sleeping. Healing." He looked up at Eponine and gave her a tired smile. "Let's go home."

* * *

Walking into the flat, Eponine wrapped her arms round Combeferre's waist.

"Well?" he asked softly.

"They're running tests," she told him quietly, resting her head on his chest and letting him stroke her hair back. "I've to go back in a week."

"Then I'm coming with you." He put a finger against her lips. "No arguments."

"Okay," she whispered as he kissed her.


	26. Art, Picnic and News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire starts painting again, Musichetta decides everyone needs a picnic to relax, and Joly finally manages to tell the group his news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, apologies for any mistakes. One day I will learn to stop writing everything at midnight.

As the following week passed Grantaire found himself entering into a routine. His days consisted mainly of keeping Alana distracted, with a few household jobs done when he had time and trips to the hospital every few days when there was someone free to look after Alana. She asked to see him every day but Grantaire still refused, knowing that no matter how bad it was for him to see Enjolras like this, for Alana to actually see how ill her father was would just terrify her. There had been no improvement bar the slow healing of some wounds but Grantaire would sit in the small hospital room for hours regardless, simply holding Enjolras's hand which wasn't in a cast and talking to him about anything and everything.

It was after a day at the hospital that Grantaire decided he was going to tackle the laundry. He'd just put Alana to bed and was looking for something, anything to distract him from the fact that Enjolras had looked paler today than three days ago, that Grantaire was convinced there had been extra tubes attached to him today, that his fears that Enjolras was just going to fade away one day had grown even stronger.

He'd been putting off doing the washing, it being his least favourite job, but that night the mundaneness was perfect. Within minutes the lounge had been taken over by the different piles of clothes, Grantaire determined to not screw up and ruin any of Alana's clothes. However he hadn't quite thought through all the consequences of this job, as he pulled a white shirt from the basket. Grantaire barely managed to hold in the sob as he held it, remembering that morning when Enjolras had pulled on one identical.

_"But white is so boring," Grantaire had whined, flopping back onto the bed after their shower as Enjolras started dressing. "It's not even a proper colour. You should have a red shirt, or pink, or green." He sat up and grinned. "Or blue! That'd bring out your eyes as well. Yeah, you'd suit a blue shirt. Not too dark, but not too pale either."_

_"'Taire, you're starting to ramble," Enjolras pointed out fondly, recognising the warning signs for Grantaire's motormouth. Sitting on the edge of the bed he leant over and kissed his boyfriend before carrying on buttoning his shirt. "Yes, I'll admit it's boring. But it's work clothes. They can't all be interesting. Even Courf has boring uniform for his staff."_

_"Pfft, like they ever follow the "all black" rule," Grantaire laughed._

_"Well, I do follow the rules. Sometimes. So I'm stuck with white shirts." He nudged Grantaire's foot. "Now get dressed, or I'll lock you in here for the day."_

Grantaire quickly dropped the shirt onto the whites pile, covering it with a t-shirt of his own before deciding that was enough sorting. Scooping up all the pale clothes, he headed through to the kitchen and filled the washing machine with them, finding the right washing powder before glaring at the dial which looked far more complicated than was needed.

"Well what the fuck is that all supposed to mean?" he grumbled when he realised there were three different settings listed under Whites. Grantaire quickly did eenie-meenie-minie-mo under his breath, clicking the dial round to the number that method had chosen. As the machine clicked and started whirring away he quickly headed back through to the lounge, throwing the rest of the clothes back into the basket. The job hadn't taken as much time as he'd hoped and Grantaire was still far too awake to even consider going to bed yet, but being left alone in the silence with his thoughts was definitely no answer if he wanted to remain sober. As the urge to drink settled in even more he quickly stood and popped open the box of tablets Joly had given him, hesitating before snapping one in half and swallowing it dry.

The valium had helped, he had to admit, no matter how reluctant he'd been to take it originally. The hallucinations had ceased within a couple of days of him accepting the tablets and he'd managed to shake off most of the nausea as well, though his head still pounded away through most of the day. His hands only shook occasionally now but the depression and urge to drink stayed firm, though Grantaire had a feeling that was more to do with Enjolras's current state than the withdrawal alone.

The one thing which hadn't changed was the nightmares, to the point where Grantaire stayed up as late as possible each night to try and avoid them, his alarm being set earlier and earlier each morning for the same reason. The visions of Enjolras dying were now interspersed with those of Enjolras waking. While it was the one thing Grantaire needed to happen, it was also up there with the things that Grantaire feared most. What if he woke and had amnesia? Grantaire wasn't sure how he would survive if Enjolras couldn't remember him at all or just couldn't remember he'd come home from London, not sure which scenario would be worse. The fear ate away at him though, whether Grantaire was asleep or not, and it was often more than he could bear. If Grantaire was honest with himself, the only reason he got up and kept on going each day was Alana. If it hadn't been for the young girl depending on him, Grantaire would have given up and fallen to pieces completely the day of the crash. As it was, the cracks were showing but he somehow was surviving and even managing to pretend that there was a semblance of normality in their lives.

Jumping to his feet, Grantaire made his way over to where he'd dumped the bags of belongings he'd fetched from the house, opening the only one which had as yet remained closed. He pulled out his paints and canvas, glancing round for where he could set the small easel up. Once everything was laid out Grantaire started painting, not even fully focusing on what was appearing on the canvas. Just the familiar actions of painting was starting to calm him, and as he finished the first painting he simply transferred it to the kitchen table to dry before starting on a second, then a third.

It was after four when the exhaustion finally hit him, just after he'd started the third picture. He was left with just enough energy to place the paints well out of Alana's reach before he staggered down the corridor and collapsed into bed, too tired to even bother stripping off his paint-spattered clothes. He was asleep within minutes and, for the first time since the accident, the exhaustion helped, sending him into a sleep deep enough to avoid dreams.

* * *

Combeferre stirred as Eponine climbed back into bed, turning to wrap his arms round her waist and kiss her temple softly.

"Much as I love having you back into my arms, I thought you were getting ready to go to the hospital," he murmured. "You don't have time for a cuddle."

"Says the person who was going to be coming with me but is still in bed," she teased, snuggling further into his embrace. "They just rang. The appointment needs to be postponed a couple of days, the test results aren't back yet."

"I'll tell Marius I need him to cover at the museum again then." Realising how still Eponine was lying, Combeferre gently stroked her hair off her forehead. "Are you okay?"

"I'm scared," she whispered, Combeferre hugging her tighter as he registered the words. It was the first time she'd admitted to the feeling since the original call from the hospital.

"Don't be," he told her firmly. "If the results come back positive... Well, we can deal with it, no matter what. It's not the end of the world."

"I know, I just..." She trailed off and sighed. "I don't know. I don't even fully understand what they're doing with the tests. I know it's something to do with DNA and genes but I was never great at Biology. I just wish there was something I could do. I hate the waiting around and not knowing. I feel useless."

"Well you're not," he reassured. He was interrupted by his phone beeping wildly behind him. Flailing over with one arm he managed to knock it off the drawers onto the bed, scooping it up from there as it started again with the second text coming through.

**Musichetta:** _Everybody, we feel the whole group could do with a chance to relax, so we're all going on a picnic seeing as most folks have today off. Those that don't (Feuilly, Marius) can join us later. We were thinking the fields on the other side of the river._

**Musichetta:** _Oh, and if you need a lift (Grantaire, Bahorel), send group texts so we can try and sort it all out._

"'Chetta's suggesting a group picnic," he told Eponine, smiling at how her face brightened up slightly at this idea.

"Sounds like just the thing to take our minds off stuff," she sighed, nuzzling into his neck. "But I'm not sure I want to get up just yet."

If Combeferre was honest, neither did he.

* * *

It was almost ten when Cosette got worried. As soon as she got the texts off Musichette she'd fired one off to Grantaire, offering a lift for both him and Alana as she had an almost empty car. When she still hadn't got a reply two hours later she decided to head over.

Grantaire had become a source of worry for all the friends. Ever since the accident he had been surviving, but nothing else. His entire life had become looking after Alana and visiting Enjolras in the hospital, and both Cosette and Jehan were convinced that he wasn't always eating or sleeping from the thinness of his face and dark shadows under his eyes. They managed to stop themselves from checking up on him daily but only just, knowing he'd only hate them for it.

Unlocking the flat door, Cosette glanced inside the lounge when she heard the noises in there. Alana was sat in a corner playing quietly with her dolls but she dropped them instantly when she saw Cosette.

"He won't wake up," she whispered, running over to hug Cosette.

"Stay here," Cosette ordered quickly, pulled Alana off her and heading as fast as she could down the hall to the main bedroom. Pushing open the door she made her way straight over to Grantaire, bending as best she could to shake his shoulder, the shakes getting stronger as her voice grew louder and more frantic. "'Taire, wake up. 'Taire. Grantaire! Dammit 'Taire will you just goddamn wake up!"

"Mmmm?" he hummed, shifting slightly but not waking properly. Cosette still sighed with relief that he was still alive.

"You need to wake up now," she said more softly, perching on the edge of the bed as she rested one hand on his arm, the other staying on her stomach as the baby kicked.

"'Jolras?" he murmured, eyes flickering.

"No, it's Cosette."

Grantaire wasn't sure why but, after the initial disappointment, the first thought to flash through his mind was that it was the first time he'd been woken up by a heavily pregnant woman. The next thought had him leaping out of bed.

"Shit, Alana!"

"She's okay, she's in the lounge," Cosette soothed, slowly standing again. "What time did you go to bed?"

"I don't remember. Early? Well, late I guess, but it was early in one sense-"

"Was it this morning instead of last night?" she interrupted, sighing when he nodded. "Well that explains why you were so dead to the world. You scared Allie, 'Taire. Hell, you scared me. Now go have a shower and get some clean clothes on. I'm going to make sure Alana's eaten, then we're all going out. 'Chetta's set up a group picnic. No arguments, you need the time out."

Cosette had just finished cleaning the kitchen up from Alana's best attempts at making breakfast when Grantaire shuffled into the room, bare feet leaving wet marks as he rubbed at his hair with a towel.

"Pleased as I am to see you painting again, do you think you could manage it at a more human time?" Cosette sighed without looking over.

"You deal with the nightmares then," Grantaire grumbled. "Look, thank you. For waking me up, and sorting in here. You should be taking it easy though."

"I'm not an invalid," she reminded him, a vague warning clear in her voice.

"Never said you were, but I still think you should be taking it easy. So my suggestion is we head out for the picnic now, then you can spend the rest of the afternoon with your feet up." It was only when she saw the exhaustion still present in his eyes that Cosette didn't argue, realising just how little Grantaire must have been sleeping recently.

"Allie," she called out. "Grab your shoes and coat, we're going out."

* * *

It had been a very different picnic to normal, very subdued but with all the friends gladly taking the opportunity for a much-needed rest, especially Grantaire. As soon as Feuilly arrived from work he'd taken Alana down to the river to paddle and skim stones, out of everyone's way whilst they turned to slightly more grown-up topics of conversation.

Eponine sighed as she laid back in the grass, placing her head in Combeferre's lap and letting herself relax as he started to play softly with her hair, leaning against the tree behind him. She smiled slightly as she felt the warmth of the sun hit her as it finally came out from behind the latest cloud, earning a cheer from the friends.

"Well you sure know how to pick the best days 'Chetta," Bahorel toasted her, holding his glass up high.

"It's a gift," she laughed jokingly, kissing Joly thank you as he filled her own glass back up with lemonade.

"Hey Joly, I just remembered something," Courfeyrac called over from where he was leaning against Jehan. "You said you had news for us, but never had the chance to tell us what it was. Well, I for one am curious. What was it? I mean, you wanted us all gathered together, so it must have been important." The entire group fell silent and paid attention as they waited for Joly's answer.

"Well, it's sort of a joint news," Joly said finally, glancing at his lovers. "As you know we can't get married, because that would be bigamy and would be illegal, but we can do the next best thing. We've decided that two of us are going to legally change our last names, so even if we aren't officially related we are as close as can be. We're getting rings as well."

"The only thing we haven't done is decide whose last name to keep," Bossuet added on.

"Obviously 'Chetta's," Cosette chuckled. "For two reasons. One, girl power. Two, it saves you having to choose between the two guys, so is easier."

"I dunno, I actually quite like Aiken," Bossuet mused, shooting his girlfriend an apologetic look. "No offence."

"None taken," she said lightly, leaning over to kiss him on the nose. "In fact, I think I agree."

"Joly's name it is then," Bahorel grinned, slapping the doctor on the back. "So when are you doing it?"

"Not yet," Joly said softly, and everyone knew why though they all kept silent about it. Enjolras's absence had been noticible all day but even more now they were all congratulating the trio.

"If we're sharing news then I have some of my own," Eponine said quietly, only just loud enough for everyone to hear her. Combeferre squeezed her hand as she sat up, shooting her a look that clearly asked 'Are you sure?' but she just nodded in reply and looked round at everyone. "I've been having tests done at the hospital. That's why I never went in to see Enjolras with anyone, I've had appointments of my own. I won't know the results for a couple of days though."

"What are they for?" Grantaire demanded numbly, the fear of losing another of their group setting in as everyone fell silent.

"Well, remember how I mentioned a couple of months ago how Azelma's pregnant? She's kinda had difficulties. Don't ask for specifics, I haven't a clue, but it's a genetic thing so they want to check if I have it as well, before I choose to have kids."

"And if you do?" Jehan had spoken this time, his light voice filled with worry.

Eponine took a deep breath before continuing, only Combeferre's hand in her's giving her the strength.

"If I do, then I'd have difficulties as well, and there would be a fifty percent chance of the baby dying. Or... Or I wouldn't be able to have children at all. Either way, it's not good."

"But you might not, right?" Cosette looked from Eponine to Combeferre's strained expression and back again. "You could be completely fine?" Eponine nodded.

"Yes. I won't know for a few days though."

"Then I'll pray for you," Cosette told her. "We can all hope, and God willing everything will be okay."

"Please," Combeferre whispered, almost too quiet for anyone to hear. Eponine glanced up at him though, realising just how strongly he felt about this. Her love for him grew at this moment as she saw how much he needed her to be happy and okay.

"Whatever happens, we can face it," she said softly, and she smiled up at her boyfriend. "Together."


	27. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eponine and Combeferre go to the appointment, Alana has her first day of school and Enjolras's birthday comes along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, sorry for the delay between chapters. I've been bogged down with so much school work and revision, not to mention actual work work as well.  
> Secondly, this chapter was incredibly hard to write. I have no idea why, I just got sudden writer's block for this part of the story, but I managed to get this out yesterday and this morning, so hopefully you all enjoy it and the next part will be easier to write.

Eponine and Combeferre were surprised to find Grantaire, Cosette and Jehan sat in the hospital lobby when they arrived, Cosette nudging the other two and standing as soon as she caught sight of them.

"You didn't have to come," Eponine said chastisingly as Cosette hugged her, but that didn't stop her from returning the hug tightly whilst Combeferre silently thanked Grantaire and Jehan for their support with his eyes and a quick nod.

"But we wanted to," Cosette told her.

"It's the least we can do," Grantaire added quietly.

"You'd have done the same if it were one of us," Jehan finished.

"Well thank you," she said sincerely, hugging Grantaire and Jehan as well.

"We don't know how long the appointment will take," Combeferre warned. "You could be waiting a while."

"I thought it was just getting test results," Grantaire commented.

"We don't really know what's going to happen. If the results are positive, it could take a while."

"We'll be here," Cosette promised.

* * *

"It was good of them to come," Eponine whispered, squeezing Combeferre's hand as they waited for the doctor to enter the consulting room.

"We have good friends," he agreed, dropping a kiss onto her hair.

"Sorry about the wait, I got held up at my last appointment," the doctor said just then as he walked in, offering his hand for them to shake. "I'm Dr. Armstrong, your sister's specialist. How much do you know about her condition?"

"That she's having problems with the pregnancy, and there's a fifty-fifty chance of the baby being stillborn," Eponine said nervously, gripping on to Combeferre's hand even tighter as the doctor sat and glanced down at her notes. "And that if she wants to get pregnant again she could struggle."

He nodded. "Good, you know the basic facts then. I'm going to try and explain this fully in a minute, but first I need to tell you that you don't have the same condition as Azelma."

Eponine hadn't even realised she'd been holding her breath until she let it out in relief, or just how tightly she'd been clutching Combeferre until she relaxed and he quickly stretched his fingers. "Sorry," she whispered to him. "So I'm okay?" she directed at the doctor. "I can still have children without problems?"

"Well there could still be problems from other areas, there are those possibilities with every pregnancy, but you will have no problems from this in particular. There is however one thing I need to mention. With recessive genetic disorders such as this, you need to have two recessive alleles in order to suffer from it - one from each parent. Your sister is homozygous recessive - she inherited two recessive alleles. We know this because she has the disorder. For you however, you may be either heterozygous or homozygous dominant." Dr. Armstrong smiled slightly at her blank look. "If you are homozygous dominant, that's good news. That would mean you haven't inherited anything to do with it. However if you are heterozygous you are a carrier for the disorder."

"Which means she can pass it on to her children," Combeferre said, quietly interrupting. "And if she has children with another carrier, there's a twenty-five percent chance of the child having the disorder, right?"

"That is correct, yes. But there's no way for us to be sure if a person is a carrier or not."

"So because Azelma is homo-thingy for the disease, both of our parents are carriers," Eponine guessed.

"That's right," the doctor nodded.

"So if we researched 'Ferre's family tree to see if anyone in his family had it, then we would know whether or not it's likely he's a carrier as well." Combeferre's eyebrows shot up at this, but he said nothing.

"If there's no-one recorded with it then there's a probability he doesn't, but we still can't be a hundred percent sure."

"If it's okay with him, then I'd like to request the research done anyway," she said simply. Combeferre just nodded when Dr. Armstrong looked at him.

"I'll look into it then," he promised. "You'll get a letter through when we know more."

"Thank you," Eponine said gratefully, Combeferre echoing her moments later.

As soon as they were out of the room, but before heading back to where their friends were waiting, Combeferre pulled Eponine into a small alcove and looked down at her seriously.

"Did you mean that?" he asked quietly. "Or am I just interpreting that wrong?"

"Yes, I meant it," she whispered, taking his face in her hands. "I love you, and I think I'm ready to have kids. And I know you're all proper and a gentleman and everything, but you don't have to be married to have children, and it's not like I'm planning on splitting up with you anytime soon, if at all, so I don't see any problem with it." She hesitated. "What are you thinking?"

"I love you," was his first response. His second was to kiss her, long and hard, before grinning down at her like an idiot.

When they finally reappeared in the waiting room, the trio of friends were on their feet in seconds.

"Well?" Cosette demanded.

"I'm clear," Eponine smiled, only letting go of Combeferre's hand for long enough to hug Cosette when she squealed happily.

"Well thank god one thing's going right," Jehan muttered, hugging Combeferre when he noticed the slightly shell-shocked look on his friend's face.

"I'm glad everything's okay," Grantaire told Eponine quietly, wrapping one arm round her shoulders and kissing her temple. "Now if you guys don't mind me running off so quickly, I have a boyfriend to go visit. I'll see you later."

"He just waited for us?" Combeferre asked quietly, staring after their friend. "Instead of going to see Enjolras?"

"He was worried about you guys," Jehan shrugged.

"He said that you'd both done so much for him, being here for you was the least he could do in return," Cosette explained.

Combeferre and Eponine shared a quick look, both planning on thanking Grantaire sometime soon for that.

"Dinner, next week?" Combeferre suggested once they were in his car, Eponine knowing exactly what he was talking about.

"Definitely, and with Alana of course." She smiled over at her boyfriend. "It'll give us some practice with children."

"Well god knows I'm gonna need it," he laughed, leaning over to kiss her before starting the car.

* * *

Grantaire couldn't believe how quickly time was passing. The rain arrived long before September did but only seemed to grow worse as Summer officially ended. He'd never been more thankful than when he got the call from Combeferre telling him his painting had sold, owing to Grantaire having just realised Alana needed uniform for starting school that summer. With less than a week to go before her first day Grantaire set off on the shopping trip, only just remembering everything she would need and calling Cosette whenever he wasn't sure on something.

The thing he was most proud of was the fact that he almost had his withdrawal completely under control. The Valium had been cut down to the point where he was managing to survive most of the week without the urge for a drink growing so strong he caved, and although the sleepless nights continued, Joly had admitted that this was most likely to be due to the stress Grantaire was under than anything else.

On Alana's first day, Grantaire got up that bit earlier than normal to make sure nothing could go wrong. She was definitely her father's daughter, he decided, when he went in to wake her and found her already up and getting dressed.

"Breakfast in ten minutes," he told her, kissing the top of her head fondly.

"Yes Uncle R," she replied instantly, making him smile.

He could feel everyone's eyes focus in on him as soon as he arrived in the playground an hour later and Grantaire almost froze, only just managing to force himself to keep going. Alana was easily recognisable to all the mothers and Grantaire stuck out like a sore thumb, having never dropped her off before.

"So I'll be here to pick you up tonight," he told Alana, dropping into a crouch so as to focus on her and ignore the whispers he could hear from the group of mothers behind him. "Be good, and have fun." He smiled at her tiredly, returning the hug she gave him happily.

"Will daddy be here?" she whispered. His grip tightened slightly.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Probably not tonight."

"Can I see him?"

"Maybe next week," he allowed.

"Okay. Bye then Uncle R."

"Bye kiddo."

And with that, Alana turned and headed into the classroom.

"You know you can stop staring now," Grantaire said conversationally after she'd gone, shooting the group nearest a quick glare before walking away. The packs of mothers at the school always reminded him of vultures, quick to swoop in on the nearest piece of gossip and never let it go, and it was a society he wasn't sure he could deal with at the moment.

* * *

Alana enjoyed being in school, babbling away to Grantaire every evening over dinner about what she'd done that day, and the days passed quickly thanks to this. So quickly in fact that Grantaire was surprised when he opened the door one morning to find Eponine standing there.

"I'll look after Alana today," she told him, entering the flat. Grantaire gave her a confused look until he remembered the date. The 12th of September. Today Enjolras turned twenty-seven.

"Thank you," he murmured, stunned by the fact that he'd been on his own with Alana for over a month now.

"Oh, and we got a letter from the hospital yesterday," Eponine said excitedly, whirling to face him again and grinning at her friend. "Chances are Combeferre's clear of that genetic disorder and isn't a carrier, meaning there's no problems with us having kids."

"You want kids?!" Grantaire squeaked, pulling her into a hug when she nodded happily. "Well good for you! That's great news!"

"I know," she agreed. "Now put spare keys on the table and get your ass out of here. Combeferre's outside. Joly got permission for the pair of you to visit the hospital whenever today, instead of just during visiting hours."

"You are both angels," he told her, grabbing his coat as he threw her the keys from the bowl behind the door. "Thank you. I'll see you later." And with that, he was out of the door.

"We need to stop by the house first," Grantaire said as soon as he was in Combeferre's car. Combeferre understood perfectly and just drove without any questions.

* * *

Entering Enjolras's hospital room felt less like a horror film these days. Slowly the wires and tubes connecting him to various machines had disappeared, leaving Enjolras with only a drip on one side and heart monitor on the other. Now that the gashes across his chest had healed up, leaving pale white scars, he looked less like he was about to die, though his pale complexion still scared Grantaire, especially when contrasted against the bright red Combeferre had chosen for the arm and leg casts.

"Happy birthday mate," Combeferre sighed, placing his small present on the bedside as he sat in one of the chairs and rested his hand on top of Enjolras's.

"Happy birthday," Grantaire whispered, taking his own seat and squeezing Enjolras's hand lightly. "You're missing a lot you know. Alana started school last week. She's loving it, but she misses you a lot. We all do. I, er, I got you this." He quickly placed a carefully wrapped present on the side. "Um, I brought you this as well. It's my latest sketchbook. I thought that you might want to look at it if you woke and we weren't here. It's mainly Allie you see."

"Me and 'Ponine are thinking about having kids," Combeferre chipped in when Grantaire hesitated. Both men had decided during their visits that to just keep talking to Enjolras, filling him in on everything that happened, was best, simply on the offchance that he could hear them. "So you have to wake up soon, because we're going to need a godfather."

"Cosette's almost due as well," Grantaire added.

Looking at each other, Combeferre and Grantaire sighed. They both knew that part of why they were getting through this so well was that they had people they had to be strong for, but both also knew that leaning on each other had helped as well. Both loved Enjolras more than life itself and would follow him anywhere, though one as a lover and one as a brother.

"When do we give up?" Combeferre asked quietly, voicing the words neither had been brave enough to speak before then. "When do we admit he may not come back?"

"The doctors were talking to me a few days ago," Grantaire replied as calmly as he could. "They said... they said that he still has some brain function but it started slipping away a bit. If he..." He trailed off and bit back a sob, but Combeferre knew what he had been going to say.

"If he loses it altogether, then we've lost him," he whispered, hand fastening around Enjolras's thumb when Grantaire nodded helplessly.

"He'd be alive, but he wouldn't be Enjolras," he said tonelessly.

"We keep the faith till then," Combeferre said firmly, almost fiercely. "Agreed?"

"Agreed," Grantaire nodded again before smiling slightly. "Never give up, never surrender."

"So it was you introduced Enjolras to that bloody film." Combeferre half-smiled. "Congratulations on making him watch sci-fi."


	28. New Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cosette goes into labour, Valjean surprises Grantaire and godparents are announced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I somehow found the time to write this last night, but it may be the last chapter for a few days I'm afraid, as exam season is about to start and I majorly need to revise for my first one. I will try and update this as soon as I can though.

Combeferre and Grantaire were still sat one on either side of Enjolras's bed two hours later, quietly exchanging stories about their friend.

"He got expelled from three different schools before he was twelve, and each time he got me kicked out with him." Combeferre smiled at the memories and Grantaire raised his eyebrows.

"Care to elaborate?"

"The first time he set all the class pets free. Six times within the space of two months. It was absolute chaos. He insisted that all creatures had the right to be free and not have to live in cages. Eventually the head was sick of them having to chase after guinea pigs and hamsters and demanded he either stop or leave. As he'd dragged me with him everytime he released them, I was also classed a a troublemaker and thrown out as well. Let me see, he set up a barricade in our second school, though I cannot for the life of me remember what he was rebelling about. The third school... Well, he got into an argument with his teacher during History lesson and he called her a 'fascist bitch'. God knows how we managed to get into the Grammar school with our track record."

Grantaire couldn't help but laugh. "How old was he when he built the barricade?"

"Nine. His parents were furious but they never could control him. They were too different to Enjolras. My father was more resigned by then. He knew from the moment I met Enjolras that I'd follow him to the ends of the Earth and back. He's the brother I never had."

Grantaire opened his mouth to ask another question but was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

"Hello?" he answered, not bothering looking at the caller ID.

"Are you guys still at the hospital?" Courfeyrac demanded, sounding panicked.

"Yeah, why?" Grantaire replied, holding up one finger when Combeferre mouthed, 'Who is it?'

"Cosette's waters broke. Jehan's driving her to the hospital at the minute while I pick Marius up. Can you let everyone else know?"

"Sure, text me when you're here and we'll come meet you as well." Grantaire glanced over at Combeferre's questioning expression as he ended the call. "Cosette's gone into labour, Courfeyrac wants us to let everyone know while he gets Marius."

"I'll text Eponine, 'Chetta, Joly and Bossuet, you text Bahorel, Feuilly and Valjean?" Combeferre suggested, pulling out his phone as he spoke.

Five minutes later everyone knew and were making plans to reach the hospital.

"Okay, they're in Ward 7 in the Maternity Wing," Combeferre told Grantaire, checking his phone again. "What are we doing? Both going, both staying, or one going and one staying with Enjolras?"

"Well I'm going," Grantaire said firmly. Combeferre nodded.

"Same." Squeezing Enjolras's hand lightly, he muttered, "Happy birthday Enjolras. I'll see you soon," before standing and heading for the door. Grantaire paused only to brush his lips over Enjolras's forehead and whisper a quick "I love you" before following.

When they finally reached the waiting room of the ward, having gotten lost three times on their way, they found themselves only waiting for a couple of minutes before Marius burst into the room, Courfeyrac hot on his heels.

"Where is she?" he gasped at the receptionist, Combeferre quickly stepping forwards to give Cosette's full name and explain that Marius was her husband when he realised Marius was way too out of breath to say anything else. The receptionist smiled at them both, giving them directions to Cosette's room. Marius set off again straight away, shooting a quick "thank you" over his shoulder. Combeferre shook his head fondly at him.

"He's been worrying the whole way here," Courfeyrac sighed, flopping into a chair exhaustedly. "Almost had a panic attack at one point."

Appearing in the doorway, Jehan made his way over to his fiance and curled up in the chair next to him, head resting on Courfeyrac's shoulder.

"She has quite some grip," he mumbled, flexing his fingers. "And one hell of a voice. I do not envy Marius anything right now."

"So you'd suggest not going in there," Grantaire guessed.

"Absolutely not. Not if you want to leave again with your sanity," Jehan warned.

"Then we stay here," Courfeyrac said firmly. "Marius may be my best friend, but no way in hell am I going in there."

* * *

None of the friends were willing to leave that night, though Grantaire had left at three to pick up Alana from school.

"I made daddy a card," she told him, holding it out. "Will you give him it?"

"Of course," Grantaire replied, taking it then hugging her as she held her arms out. He pulled her up onto his shoulders and set off back home, listening to her telling him about her day.

"How's daddy today?" she asked before they were halfway home.

"Still sleeping," he said softly. "Me and 'Ferre spent a few hours with him earlier though."

"Will you give him the card tomorrow?"

"Of course I will. And I'll have to visit Cosette of course. She's having her baby."

"That's great!" Alana squealed. "Boy or girl?"

"We don't know yet, but I'll tell you as soon as I know," he promised.

"Will I be able to play with him or her?"

"When they're a little older, yes. They'll be a little small to play games at the minute, but you'll still be able to hold them and stuff."

"I can't wait," she smiled.

* * *

Grantaire made a quick stop by Enjolras's room when he arrived at the hospital next morning after dropping Alana off at school, walking the now-familiar corridors quickly. He lightly ran his hand through the blonde hair which was slowly starting to grow back, his hand continuing to stroke down his cheek and ending up resting against Enjolras's cheek.

"Allie made you a card yesterday," he said softly, kissing his forehead. "A birthday card, though if you knew the date that would be kinda obvious. It's real pretty. Red card, with a picture of a dog wearing glasses and reading a book on the front. Well, at least I think that's what it could be. It almost looks like that. She definitely inherited your artistic skills Enj. Anyways, I can't stay long. Cosette's in labour - isn't that great? I had to leave last night to look after Alana but everyone else stayed to wait and I'm going to go join them. I'll be back soon though. Either later today or tomorrow. So, uh, try and wake up for then, okay? But if you can't, then sleep well." Grantaire brushed his lips over Enjolras's faintly before turning and leaving the room again.

"What did I miss?" Grantaire asked as he entered the waiting room at the Maternity Ward, looking round at the tired faces lining the room.

"It's going slowly," Courfeyrac sighed, shifting slightly to try and get more comfortable without disturbing the poet curled up asleep with his head in his lap. "Feuilly and Bahorel had to leave to go to work, but Marius escaped for five minutes earlier to tell us that the baby was a breech, hence why it's taking so long. Cosette's fighting the idea of a C-section though."

"I don't blame her," Musichette murmured, stroking her fingers through Joly's hair as he rested his head on her shoulder tiredly.

"Have any of you actually slept?" Grantaire rolled his eyes when they shook their heads. "You should have taken it in turns. Wow, you can tell things are bad when even I am making sensible suggestions. Look, there's no saying how long this will take." He glanced over at Valjean. "Me and Mr. Valjean can wait. The rest of you should try and get some rest. If you manage to sleep, I'll wake you as soon as we hear some news." He ignored all protests, weak though they were from some, simply glaring his friends down until they finally sighed and settled into their chairs more comfortably.

"Thank you," Combeferre told Grantaire, wrapping his arms round Eponine and half-pulling her onto his lap.

* * *

Valjean and Grantaire sat in silence for over an hour until the older man finally looked over at him.

"You know, you're not as bad as I thought," he allowed gruffly, his worried frown not really relaxing. "You've grown up."

"Um... thanks?"

Valjean almost smiled at the confusion in Grantaire's voice.

"When I first met you, I came close to forbidding Cosette to have anything to do with you," he explained. "A cynical nihilistic drunkard who was so obviously dangerously in love with a man who seemed to hate him that I was worried you would bring the whole group down with you when things finally kicked off between the pair of you and he destroyed you completely. Cosette would have been affected when you fell to pieces - you know how deeply she grows to care about her friends, and for some reason she made good friends with you. I blame the art."

"She does like paintings," Grantaire agreed. "Though I haven't really had the chance to see her much in the past few months. Too much other stuff has been going on since Enjolras came home, and sadly it's our friendship which has had to sink into the background a little."

"Thank you," Valjean said suddenly. "For being there for her whenever anything went wrong for her. For loving her. For always giving up your time if she asked for your company, even since Enjolras came home and your time has been split even more. And right this minute, for sitting here waiting for news about her instead of sitting with the man you love."

Grantaire blinked in surprise. It was the first time Valjean had ever said anything nice about him - normally he just got a "oh, it's you again is it" whenever his friend's father saw him.

"Uh, thanks," he said finally. "Again."

"Don't mess up now," Valjean warned quickly, as if worried Grantaire was going to think he was turning soft.

"I won't," Grantaire promised. "Though really, me falling apart won't really bring this group down. They don't need me to survive. Cosette has Marius and, after today, their child. They'll be fine."

"You're talking as if it's set in stone that you're going to fall apart. It may not end so bad."

"It will if Enjolras doesn't wake up," Grantaire whispered, glancing down at his clasped hands as he leant forwards and rested his forearms on his knees.

"He will," Valjean said firmly. "God wouldn't take him now, not with his daughter depending on him so much. And if God does take him, then it's because he knows you are perfectly capable of raising Alana instead of Enjolras."

Grantaire opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by a door just down the corridor banging open.

"Guys!" Marius cried, skidding out and running down the corridor towards them. "Guys, I'm a dad!"

* * *

Somehow the entire group managed to crowd into the tiny hospital room after Grantaire had woken them all up, smiling at the sight of Cosette sat up in bed, her small baby resting in her arms as she cooed down at him.

"Well?" Courfeyrac demanded. "Boy or girl?"

"Boy," she told them all, unable to stop smiling no matter how exhausted she felt.

"Name?" was Jehan's quick question, still blinking the sleep away from his eyes.

"We hadn't really thought about boys names," Marius admitted from his perch on the edge of the bed, arm resting round Cosette's shoulders.

"We know who we want for godparents though," Cosette continued. "Ep? You'll be godmother right?"

"Love to," Eponine smiled, leaning into Combeferre's side.

"And Courf," Marius added. "You're definitely a godfather."

"Yessir," Courfeyrac grinned, saluting the couple.

"So who's the third?" Combeferre inquired.

"Grantaire," Cosette said softly, surprising them all.

"...Seriously?" Grantaire asked, stunned. "I thought you'd choose Enjolras, even though he's... not here right now. I mean, Enjolras _is_ the one that you're both better friends with, and-"

"You're loyal, loving, caring, easy-going but sometimes strict when needed, and most importantly, good with kids and a good friend to us both," Marius ticked off on his fingers.

"But... what about Combeferre?" Grantaire tried. "He'd make a way better godfather than me. Or Jehan."

"Well technically we're godfathers-through-relationships," Combeferre chuckled. "I agree with the happy couple. You're a good choice."

"I... That is..." Grantaire sighed as he looked round at the smiles on everyone's face. "Fine. Okay. I accept. Thank you. This is..." He laughed weakly. "One hell of an honour and I hope I don't mess it up."

"You won't," Valjean told him, surprising everyone with his vote of assurance. "Now can I hold my grandson?"

As Cosette positioned her son in her papa's arms Courfeyrac suddenly brightened up and laughed loudly.

"Trust you guys to have a son on Friday the thirteenth!"

The replies were instantaneous.

"No Marius we are not calling my son Jason."

"I never said a word!"

* * *

"They made me godfather," Grantaire said softly after he'd described Marius and Cosette's son to Enjolras, taking his boyfriend's hand again. "I can't believe it. I thought I'd be their last choice. I mean, who wants a drunkard as their child's godfather, even if I am an ex-drunkard. I failed once, it could happen again. I don't want it to, but I have to honest about this. It could happen." The silence was deafening as Grantaire fell silent, and he sighed quietly. "Okay, okay. I know what you'd be saying if you were awake right now. 'Grantaire, you need to have more faith in yourself. Believe in something for once. Believe in you for once. You're not useless. You haven't fucked up with Alana yet, bar that one drunk incident which will from now on be ignored, and you won't fuck up with your godson. Just relax. You will do fine.'" Grantaire laughed. "Oh god, you even have that cute little frown when berating me in my own head. Yeah, okay, I'll admit it. I have it bad." He glanced at his watch before bending down and kissing Enjolras's cheek. "I need to go pick Alana up from school. Love you."

He'd reached the door before he stopped, remembering something as he turned in the doorway to face the bed.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. My godson. They called him Christopher. Christopher Alexander."


	29. Birthdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara comes to visit ready for Alana's birthday, Alana goes to see Enjolras for the first time since the accident, and Grantaire's birthday also rolls round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the past week has been hell. Between exam revision and an extraordinarily busy week I haven't even had time to open my laptop, never mind write. Forget Grantaire, _I've_ had withdrawal symptoms, from lack of writing. And then as soon as I do have time to write, I get writers block.
> 
> Bloody typical.
> 
> However, here it is! And it's a long one to try and make up for the wait. But thanks to Rainbow Sleepover this weekend (Daisy Scouts to Americans), I am way too tired to read through almost 5000 words, so sorry for any errors. I'll stick a disclaimer up here - all errors, whether grammatical or spelling based, can be blamed on eight 5-year-olds.
> 
> Also, you do not want to know how many attempts I've now had to make simply to post this chapter tonight. I am about ten seconds from throwing the laptop through the nearest window. =.= Stupid website. If you are reading this, then I've had the patience to battle through the frustration and keep trying and trying again.

Cosette and Christopher had to stay in the hospital for almost a week before they could leave. By the end of the first day she was sick of doctors telling her how her son was "too small to be able to leave just yet", that he "needs constant surveilance for a few days", and that she had "bled too much during the birth to be able to leave straight away".

"If they tell me that one more time I'm just gonna sneak out one night," she grumbled to Grantaire when he went to visit one afternoon.

She was rarely bored though, with various combinations of their friends going to see the pair every day. Marius spent his paternity leave in the chair next to her bed, doing his best to keep her from getting bored and stircrazy, and Grantaire was present for at least half an hour of every day before going to see Enjolras. The new parents were always happy to see him, and were both pleased to see already that they'd made the right choice when watching Grantaire with his godson. The artist's voice seemed to mesmerise Christopher, and the baby would lie in his arms and simply watch him as Grantaire spoke to him about all kinds of random topics.

Enjolras won out of Cosette being kept inside as well, though he didn't know it. Every day he'd end up with a large group of friends fitting themselves into his room, normally just after they'd visited Cosette as the wards' visiting times were slightly different. It wasn't that they hadn't visited him before, it was simply that they rarely came in large groups, instead choosing to visit in ones or twos.

When Christopher and Cosette were finally released, Cosette felt like she could sing.

"Please don't," Marius said worriedly, earning himself a laugh and a light smack on the arm. Cosette forgave him though. It was common knowledge that, while she'd been nicknamed The Lark early on by Bahorel and Courfeyrac, she couldn't actually sing to save her life.

"It's good to be home," she sighed happily as she carried Christopher into the house.

"Come with me," Marius said excitedly, pushing past her and holding out his hand. Making sure Christopher was firmly tucked into one arm, Cosette took it and let him lead her up the stairs and into the room they'd designated as the nursery. She couldn't help but gasp once inside.

The lower half of the room was painted light green, the amount of detail Grantaire had put into making it look like grass unbelievable. It blended smoothly into the blue of the sky, with little fluffy clouds scattered across the ceiling. Dotted around the room and half hidden by the grass were various animals, painted to seem friendly and cuddly. The wall behind the cot had a little picnic taking place, with all their friends featured, and it was all Cosette could do not to cry as she traced her fingers over it.

"It's perfect," she whispered, looking down at Christopher. "You're going to love it," she told him. "I just know it."

* * *

Grantaire mumbled to himself as he made his way over to the front door, desperately trying to wipe the paint off his hands before he got it everywhere but eventually just giving up and making a mental note to wipe the door handle later on as he opened it.

"Mum?" he asked in surprise, staring at Barbara who was standing in the doorway.

"Feuilly told me I'd find you here," she told him, stepping inside and hugging her son, uncaring of the paint which covered her coat as he hugged her back tightly. "Why didn't you tell me you'd moved in with Enjolras? And what's wrong?" Pulling back, she met his eyes worriedly. "You never hug me like that unless something's badly wrong."

"Enjolras is in hospital," he whispered, all of the energy seeming to drain from him as he said the words.

Grantaire had managed to make himself seem bright and cheerful for Alana as time went on, pretending things weren't as serious as they really were.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Barbara demanded as she pulled her unresisting son into another hug.

"I kept hoping he'd wake up."

"He's in a coma?" Barbara sighed when Grantaire nodded. "How's Alana taking it?"

"She asks after him constantly but I haven't taken her to see him yet." Quietly he explained all Enjolras's injuries to her. "Eponine agreed that it would probably just scare her. I was planning on taking her sometime this week though."

"Well how about today? The pair of us can take her."

"Just let me wash my hands. Allie's in the lounge if you want to go through and say hello."

"Grantaire," Barbara said as he turned to leave, almost sharply. "How long has this been going on for?"

"He got hit by a car August 9th. That was when I moved in here, to look after Alana."

"You bloody idiot, that's over a month!"

"Ma!" he protested, barely believing what he was hearing.

"What? You are. Next time anything major happens, you tell me the second it happens, understood? It's like being with a child, looking after you. I am your mother, Grantaire. If you let me know about things then I can help you. Stop bottling things up."

"Well what would you rather I do?" Grantaire demanded, throwing his hands up as he glared at his mother. "Break down and leave Alana with no-one to look after her? I had to stay strong, for her. I had to bottle things up, for her. I couldn't let the cracks show, for her. She needed someone and that had to be me. If I hadn't kept it all to myself, I don't know if I could have done it, okay?" His voice was shaking slightly by the end.

"Okay," Barbara said quietly, understanding what he meant. She'd been much the same when her husband had died, forcing herself to stay strong for her son until Grantaire had left, and only then allowing herself to grieve. And as much as she wanted to be able to look after and mother her son, his words reminded her of how she'd been back then, and made her realise that maybe he just needed to get through this on his own.

"I'll be five minutes," he said just as softly, holding up his paint-covered hands again. "Make yourself comfortable. The bus leaves in fifteen."

* * *

Grantaire told Alana to wait with Barbara a moment when they entered the hospital, heading over to the desk but making sure they never left his line of sight.

"Hi," he smiled at the receptionist. "We're here to see Enjolras Molloy, in Room 2 of Ribble Ward. I know it's not official visiting time right now, but it's his daughter's first time seeing him since his accident. She's only young though, and so we were wondering if you could make sure all the blankets and everything were pulled up to his neck when we went in, instead of just to his waist or chest as it often is. Just so she isn't scared by the scars. It's bad enough he's in a coma without that terrifying her as well."

"Of course," she smiled back. "I'll send a message up now."

"Thanks."

Turning back to Alana and his mother, he called them over and headed for the lift.

"Just checking it's okay for us to visit," he lied when Barbara gave him a questioning look. "It's out of visiting hours after all." She didn't fully believe him, knowing when her son was lying to her, but said nothing for now.

When they entered the room, Barbara hung back at the doorway as Alana clung to Grantaire's hand and the pair headed in towards Enjolras. Alana's eyes were wide and she couldn't stop staring at her father as they approached the bed.

"Why is his arm and leg in that?" she asked quietly, indicating the casts.

"He injured them, so those are there to help them heal," Grantaire explained. "It's what happens when you break a bone."

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes," he said simply. "But when they're in a cast, they hurt less and heal faster."

"Good," she said firmly. "Can I sit on the bed?"

"So long as you don't mess with anything, then yes," he allowed.

"Can I hold his hand?" she asked then, shuffling around slightly as she sat, trying not to disturb anything.

"'Course you can." He ruffled Alana's hair as she picked up Enjolras's hand so carefully you would think it was made of china. The next moment he almost jumped, startled as Barbara lightly placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she murmured, accepting his nod reluctantly. "Do you want me to stay?" When he nodded again, she made her way over to a chair by the wall, simply sitting and watching them silently, there if Grantaire needed her. What Barbara didn't know was that her son felt better simply by her being there.

"Can he hear us?" Alana asked suddenly, looking up at Grantaire.

"I like to think he can," he replied with a small shrug.

"So I can talk to him?"

"Go for it kiddo."

The trio stayed sat there for an hour, Grantaire and Barbara silent as Alana talked to her father. Over an hour had passed when her voice cracked and the tears started.

"Please wake up daddy," she whispered, leaning down and hugging him, resting her head on his chest lightly. "Please wake up. I miss you." When Grantaire reached over and wiped her tears away gently she turned and practically threw herself into his arms, crying heavily now as he tried his best to soothe her.

"He's going to be okay," he promised through his teeth, hoping above all else he wasn't lying to her. "Come on, let's go home. We can come back and see him again if you want." Snuffling as she tried her best to stop the tears, Alana nodded weakly. "Okay then."

Grantaire kept on carrying her as they left the hospital room, pausing only to dig his phone out of his pocket and hand it to Barbara, just about managing to balance Alana as he did so.

"Phone Combeferre or Courfeyrac," he said softly, "and ask if one of them can give us a lift. I'm not taking her on the bus now."

* * *

Barbara waited until Alana was asleep in bed before bringing up the subject of Enjolras with her son.

"What are you going to do if he doesn't wake up?" she asked coolly, as if they were just discussing the weather or some other equally trivial topic. Grantaire stiffened.

"I... I don't know," he admitted. "I guess I have to try and go on. For Alana."

"Grantaire, you're not her father."

"I know that!" he snapped. "But who else does she have?"

"What about her mother?"

"She wanted nothing to do with Allie."

"Enjolras's parents?"

"Enjolras doesn't get on with them. He'd hate for his daughter to be brought up by people like that."

"Grantaire, unless it specifically states in his will that he wants his daughter to have nothing to do with his parents, they'll just give her to them, as her only family. If it does state that, then they'll put her in the foster system."

"Then I'll adopt her." Grantaire glared at his mother when she opened her mouth again. "Yeah, I know. It'll be hard for someone with my track record to win the right to adopt her. But if I don't manage it, then one of our friends will. We won't let Allie disappear into the hellhole which is our country's foster system. Feuilly had a bad enough time in that, Allie is never going near it."

"Grantaire," she said softly, laying her hand lightly on his arm. "How are you going to adopt her when we both know you won't be in a fit state to look after a child? If Enjolras dies... When you lose someone you love, you can't just move on with your life overnight."

"I survived last time," Grantaire whispered brokenly. "And I thought then that he was never coming back."

"But there was still the chance he might, however small that chance might have been. And while there was that chance, there was hope. If Enjolras dies, then he's never coming back, and you'd know that." Barbara spoke calmly, not suger-coating anything. "Grantaire, you're my son. I know you, and I know how you think. And I don't think you can sit there and look me in the eye and say truthfully that you'd be okay if he died."

"I'd manage," he tried, but he couldn't hold her eyes, glancing away after only a few moments.

"I thought so," Barbara said sadly. "Whatever happens, Grantaire, you promise me this. You keep on going, you understand? You survive. I don't care how hard it is, you never give in."

"I'll try," Grantaire promised hollowly.

"Thank you." Barbara embraced her son, letting him bury his face in her shoulder as she hugged him tightly.

"So why are you here now, with no advance word?" Grantaire asked about ten minutes later, both pretending Grantaire's red eyes weren't from barely-concealed tears. "You normally call when you're visiting unless someone invited you."

"Enjolras invited me, before I left last time," she explained. "For Alana's birthday."

"I'd almost forgotten about that," Grantaire admitted with a small sigh. "I have presents, but they're back at the house. I'll sneak over there in the morning."

"Well I'm staying not too far from there, so I could fetch them over," his mother offered instantly.

"No you're not, you're staying here. No arguments," he continued quickly before she could disagree with him. "Alana could do with someone around other than me for a few days. You can stay in Enjolras's room. It's not like I'm sleeping much as it is." He shrugged when she raised one eyebrow at him, not caring anymore. "I paint at nights. It helps me relax for a few hours, plus I need one heck of a lot of paintings for Combeferre and the exhibition before the fifth of October. Besides, it's not the first time I've slept on this sofa. It's comfortable enough. I said no arguments mother." Barbara knew better than to argue with his tone of voice, recognising it as one she herself often used.

"Thank you then."

* * *

Next morning, Barbara didn't make any comments about how long into the night Grantaire had painted, instead rising early and telling him to go pick up Alana's present while she sorted breakfast. Grantaire didn't argue, just grabbing his jacket and running to catch the next bus.

Courfeyrac was heading down the stairs when Grantaire entered the house, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"I'd have thought you'd be home with Alana today," he commented.

"Her present is here," Grantaire explained. "And mum's with Alana. Enjolras invited her."

"Ooh, so there's a party then?" Courfeyrac sighed when Grantaire shook his head.

"I forgot," Grantaire said with a shrug.

"Cafe, five o'clock," Courfeyrac instructed with a scowl. "Bring all presents there, and make sure all three of you are dressed smart. Find Allie a dress or something."

"Courf-" Grantaire started to protest, but he was soon cut off.

"No buts, just be there."

* * *

How Courfeyrac had managed to get all their friends in the same place at such short notice Grantaire wasn't sure, especially on a day when half of them worked, but when they arrived at the cafe everyone was present.

Their day had been a full one, with Barbara borrowing Combeferre's car and driving the three of them out into the countryside. They'd visited a nearby fairground, Grantaire winning Alana a huge pink teddy bear, then lazed by the side of a river with a picnic for an early lunch, ending up at a petting farm, with Grantaire sketching a quick picture of Alana with a beautiful black and white rabbit on her lap.

"Can we have a rabbit?" she pleaded on the way back, but Grantaire had simply shook his head.

"The owners of the flat don't allow pets," he'd explained.

They let Alana run ahead into the cafe when Barbara had parked, following her in with arms full of presents. Barbara hung back once inside, simply seating herself in the most comfortable chair and smiling as she watched her son and his friends with the young girl.

"Grantaire's good with her," Cosette commented softly, taking the seat next to Barbara and shifting Christopher in her arms so as to be more comfortable. "It's part of why we asked him to be godfather."

"He failed to mention that," Barbara remarked, leaning over to coo at the boy. "Can I hold him?" Cosette gladly passed her son over, letting herself relax for a few minutes. "Well aren't you gorgeous," Barbara smiled down at him.

"Alright, who's for pass the parcel?" Courfeyrac called out, throwing a terribly wrapped package at Joly. Almost all of the friends placed their brews onto the nearest tables and happily formed a circle on the floor, laughing and joking quietly with each other. Feuilly almost fell over from laughter when the music started, the Teletubbies theme song blasting out across the cafe.

"She doesn't watch this!" Grantaire yelled, catching the parcel which Bahorel lobbed at him and dropping it quickly into Jehan's lap.

"How can you say that?" Courfeyrac practically wailed, making those few friends who weren't already laughing start. "The Teletubbies are amazing!"

"Tinky Winky is gay!" Bahorel cried, making Bossuet snort and Eponine clutch at Marius to stop her from falling over completely.

"Hands off my girlfriend Pontmercy," Combeferre called over.

"Get your ass over here and keep her upright yourself then," Marius retorted.

The rest of the party continued in much the same fashion, with different people suggesting different childrens games and the entire group willingly joining in with much enthusiasm. Barbara and Cosette stayed sat on the outskirts with Christopher, occasionally calling over suggestions or just teasing everyone.

"Presents!" Courfeyrac announced finally, bouncing over to the pile of gifts which had been left on one of the tables. The rest of them gathered round as well, each snagging their own gift to give to Alana, who looked like she couldn't believe her luck. Remembering her manners, she made sure she hugged and thanked everyone as they handed their presents over, and Grantaire felt proud of her for this, knowing that at her age he would not have had that patience, instead just ripping the paper off the moment he got given something. They'd got her all sorts, from paints to toys to clothes to books (from Jehan and Combeferre, naturally).

"This one's mine," he told her, sitting crosslegged on the floor next to her and holding out the slim parcel. "And there's something else back at the house."

Instead the parcel was a framed painting he'd spent hours on one night. It showed Enjolras relaxing in his favourite arm chair, Alana curled up on his knee as he read to his daughter. There was an air of peace and happiness about the picture which touched them all as they crowded round to inspect it, but a few tears still fell, Jehan quickly taking the picture before it got spoilt. Grantaire pulled Alana into his arms and wiped the moisture away, whispering reassurances as he did so.

"I miss you," she murmured, burying her face in his chest.

"I know," he said simply, kissing her hair. "I know."

The only things left to give her where the presents from Enjolras, who had clearly decided to spoil his daughter as she turned five. Courfeyrac slipped into the back as Alana opened them, the lights flicking off soon after as he walked back out holding a small cake. It was only simple, none of them having Grantaire's artistic touch, but that didn't stop Alana's face from brightening up when she saw it.

"Thank you," Grantaire murmured to Courfeyrac as Alana played with Eponine, Jehan and some new dolls. "This is all perfect."

"Anything to help," Courfeyrac told his oldest friend, pulling him into a hug. "Anytime."

* * *

The giant stuffed polar bear waiting for Alana when they got back to the flat was simply the icing on the cake for the five-year-old, who squealed happily as she threw her arms round Grantaire's neck.

"I couldn't resist," he said with a shrug later on, as his mother came back into the lounge from tucking Alana in, muttering something about "how hard it is to tuck in a child who won't stop hugging a teddy which is bigger than her".

"You can explain it to Enjolras," she warned, making them both laugh as they imagined Enjolras's response to the giant toy.

"Stay a while longer," Grantaire said suddenly. "Like another couple of weeks. Alana loves you being around, and I know everyone else is pleased to see you as well. And, well, I could do with the company."

"Of course I'll stay," Barbara promised with a smile. "It's not like I have to get home for work these days. Tell you what, I'll stay till your birthday, how does that sound?"

"Perfect."

* * *

The next few weeks seemed to zoom by, with Grantaire seeming to improve visibly just by having his mother nearby and Barbara enjoying the chance to mother the entire group. Grantaire spent more time than ever painting in the third week of her stay, after a call of Combeferre warning him about the ending of the current art exhibition.

"Yours is next," Combeferre had told him, double checking the dates in the museum diary. "Starts the 25th of this month."

"How many pictures?"

"Over fifty."

Grantaire had sighed at that and quickly counted in his head.

"I have thirty. That's twenty to complete in two weeks then." Grantaire sighed again. "Looks like it's a good thing I'm not currently employed."

It was one night during those weeks when Grantaire had walked slowly into the lounge having just put Alana to bed and sank down onto the sofa, looking stunned.

"Are you okay?" Barbara asked worriedly, looking over at her son from the armchair she'd claimed as her own.

"She just called me 'papa'," he mumbled, staring down at the floor. "She says it's because Cosette has a papa, someone who isn't her real daddy but acts like one, so I must be her papa. She sat there and said 'good night papa'."

"Children do always say things the way they are," Barbara said simply, relaxing back into the chair. "At the end of the day, your relationship isn't really that much different to that of Jean and Cosette, only Enjolras is still alive." The silent 'for now' hung in the air between them, neither daring to say it. "You do love her like a father Grantaire, is it really so surprising that she called you papa?"

"I just wish I could tell Enjolras," he murmured, glancing over.

"One day you will."

* * *

The 17th dawned dark and stormy, the complete opposite of Enjolras and Alana's birthdays. Grantaire had woken at around five am, after only two hours sleep but hadn't complained, instead simply getting out his paints and starting on finishing the picture he'd started painting the previous night.

"Happy birthday dear," his mother said as she entered the lounge later on, clucking her tongue when she realised how long he must have been awake. "You need a lie-in."

"I need to finish this," he corrected, leaning in close to dab one last piece of black on. "There." He glanced over. "And thank you." Grantaire held up his hands in warning as his mother approached. "Don't hug me yet, I'm covered in paint. I'll have a shower while Alana has breakfast, that way I'm fit for human contact."

"Happy birthday," Alana sang happily as she skipped into the room later on, fully dressed and ready for school. Grantaire, having wiped off the worst of the paint from his skin but still with splattered clothes, refused a hug again but bent to accept the kiss to his cheek she gave him. "You can have your present later," the girl told him sternly. "After school."

"Okay," he smiled down at her, ruffling her hair lightly. "Now go get your breakfast or you'll be late."

Alana and Barbara had only just left for school when Combeferre came charging up the stairs to the flat, hammering on the door desperately.

"Dammit 'Taire opening the bloody door!" he yelled, hitting the doorbell before knocking furiously again.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming!" he heard from inside, and next moment the door was yanked open by an almost naked Grantaire, towel wrapped hastily round his waist, soaking wet curls plastered to his face and trickles of water running down his chest proof that Combeferre had just interrupted his shower. "What?" Grantaire demanded, knowing Combeferre wouldn't have come in person at this time of a morning unless it was important. "What's happened?"

"Get dressed," Combeferre gasped. "Now!"

* * *

Combeferre refused to tell Grantaire anything as the pair hurried down to the car, a permanent frown fixing itself onto Grantaire's face as he realised where Combeferre was driving to.

"Is Enjolras okay?" he asked tersely, only getting even more worried when Combeferre wouldn't answer.

Joly was sat outside Enjolras's room when they arrived on the ward, Grantaire practically lifting him out of his chair as he grabbed the doctor and demanded to know what was happening.

"-because he won't tell me a fucking thing," he finished, jabbing at Combeferre over his shoulder with his thumb as he did so.

"You might want to just go inside," Joly told him, smoothing down his labcoat as Grantaire let go and glancing over at the door almost nervously.

Taking a deep breath, Grantaire placed one hand on the door and pushed, stepping inside.

Enjolras was sat up in the bed, glaring at the nurse who was trying to take his pressure. His gaze softened as he looked over to see Grantaire standing in the doorway, face slack from shock as the artist simply stared.

Next second he was moving, though he never remembered how he made it fromt one side of the room to the other. All he knew was that one moment he was in the doorway, the next by Enjolras's side, gripping his hand tightly as he gazed down into Enjolras's eyes, drinking him in.

"Am I dreaming?" Grantaire mumbled, his free hand coming up to frame Enjolras's face. Enjolras looked as if he wanted to lace his fingers with it, but his cast prevented him from doing so.

"I don't think so," Enjolras replied softly, smiling as best he could.

"How are you?" Grantaire asked then, lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed as he continued to hold on to his boyfriend's hand.

"Stupid bloody question."

"Ah, yeah. True. I, ah... I missed you." Grantaire rolled his own eyes at this. "Boy do I sound cliche."

"What do you remember?" Combeferre asked quietly from the doorway, making Enjolras's eyes snap from Grantaire to him.

"Not much," the blonde admitted, making Grantaire freeze. "I vaguely remember leaving for work and planning to meet up with Grantaire afterwards, but that's it. Nothing as to why I'm here or in a cast - particularly as my arm feels fine even if my leg doesn't - and I certainly don't remember anything as to why you and Grantaire and Joly earlier look so relieved."

"There was an accident," Grantaire whispered, shaking his head when Combeferre started to speak. "You were hit by a car. Ended up with some broken bones, hence the casts, and other injuries as well. And, ah, well, you hit your head bad. Real bad. Bad enough that you've been in a coma ever since."

"How long?" Enjolras's voice came at as a cracked whisper.

"Over two months." Combeferre took over now, walking further into the room so as to join them at the bed. "It's October 17th."

"I missed Allie's birthday," was all he could manage to say at first, closing his eyes as he let this news sink in.

Opening them a few minutes later, Enjolras looked up at Grantaire. There was pain clear in his pale blue eyes, a pain which stabbed at Grantaire but which he could live with, because he was actually seeing his eyes and Enjolras was actually feeling something, and Grantaire could cope with this, he would take the pain because Enjolras was awake and that was everything to him.

"Happy birthday," Enjolras whispered.

Grantaire smiled, bending and pressing a soft kiss to Enjolras's lips at the words.

"Thank you," he whispered in reply, not moving that far back. "For the best present I could get this year. You."

For he didn't care how cliched it sounded, it was true.


	30. It's Been A Long Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras gets used to being awake again.

Grantaire and Combeferre spent the rest of the day by Enjolras's side, filling him in on everything he'd missed over the past two months.

"You should have seen the guys at the party," Combeferre laughed. "Musical Bumps was great fun. Thomas the Tank Engine playing full volume on the CD player, Grantaire singing along, Bahorel and Feuilly scrapping over who had sat down first, Joly worriedly asking when the floor had last been mopped, Bossuet and 'Chetta trying to reassure him, Courfeyrac tackling Jehan because he was too good at the game-"

"Eponine clinging on to Combeferre because she was wearing heels and almost fell over properly," Grantaire interrupted, a wide grin on his face. "And Marius just sitting there, completely baffled, asking if he'd won, when in reality Alana had won everything, through both her being the best and everyone else spoiling her."

"Cosette, Christopher and Barbara stayed quiet in the corner, just laughing at us all," Combeferre continued.

"Christopher?" Enjolras asked quickly.

"Oh God, we forgot to tell you that bit! Cosette had her baby. A boy, Christopher Alexander, and Grantaire here is godfather."

"That's great news," the blonde said with a smile, trying to hide the weariness he felt from his eyes.

"You're tired," Combeferre realised anyway, standing. "I'll leave you to sleep. It's good to have you back with us at long last."

As Grantaire stood to leave with him though, Enjolras caught his wrist.

"Stay a little longer?" he asked quietly.

"Of course," Grantaire smiled back, sitting again instantly. "'Ferre, will you let mum know where I am please? Thanks."

"I'll come again tomorrow," Combeferre promised Enjolras before he left.

"God knows why you're so sleepy, you've done nothing but sleep recently" Grantaire joked weakly once they were alone. "I... I'm glad you're awake. You scared me."

"I'm sorry," Enjolras whispered in return, squeezing his boyfriend's hand.

"Not your fault."

"How has Alana been?" he asked then, worry about his daughter written clear on his face.

"Amazingly strong. She misses you, that much is obvious. That wasn't really helped by the fact that we didn't bring her to see you until a few weeks ago, but there was a reason for that. We all agreed that it might be too much for her, because of how you looked."

"How I looked?" Enjolras's voice shook slightly.

"You got worse before you got better," Grantaire admitted sadly, his expression making it clear to Enjolras that he was remembering exactly how bad Enjolras had looked. Enjolras's hand tightened on Grantaire's.

"I'm better now," he whispered, bringing Grantaire's hand to his lips. "I'm here now."

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, unmoving until Grantaire finally shifted slightly in his chair.

"And there was me thinking you were tired and needed sleep," he teased, bending to kiss Enjolras. "I'll stay till you're asleep if you want."

"Thank you," Enjolras murmured, still gripping on to Grantaire's hand as his eyes slid shut. Grantaire sat there for well over an hour, happy to just watch Enjolras sleep because this time, he knew he was going to wake up.

"It's no good," Enjolras suddenly grumbled, startling his boyfriend who had started to consider leaving and coming back later on.

"Hey now, I thought you were asleep," Grantaire said softly, bringing up his free hand to rest against Enjolras's cheek.

"I can't sleep," Enjolras complained, rolling onto his side. "My arm itches, and I can't scratch it because of this bloody cast."

"Here, I'll try and take your mind off it," Grantaire offered, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and starting to massage Enjolras's shoulders, making sure his hand caught the top of Enjolras's arm as well.

"Mmm," Enjolras hummed, eyes closing and the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. "That feels good." Grantaire smiled as he continued, the flexing of his fingers helping him to relax as well. "So who's been looking after Alana?"

"I have," Grantaire said quietly. "I've been staying in your flat because that seemed like it would be easiest for her, especially considering that she was suddenly without you. Hope you don't mind."

"I'm glad it was you. She likes you the best."

"She called me papa," Grantaire told him, making Enjolras's eyes flash open.

"Really?" He smiled lightly. "Well I guess that means she's not going to have any problems with us having a relationship."

"My mother came to stay as well," Grantaire admitted. "I may as well get all confessions out at the same time."

Enjolras laughed. "Barbara is always welcome to stay whenever, though I didn't think there was enough space in that flat for three people on a semi-permanent basis."

"Well, there's less space than ever now, because I may have moved some of my art stuff in with me. I have done my utmost to keep your home tidy though. Well, tidyish. As tidy as it could ever be with me living there." Enjolras laughed again at Grantaire's words.

"Join me," he said softly.

"There's not enough room," Grantaire pointed out. "It's a single bed."

Enjolras didn't reply, instead just shifting over so he was only taking up half of the bed. "Join me," he said again. Grantaire simply sighed and released his grip on Enjolras's shoulders, turning so he was still sat on the bed but now facing the other way, towards the door instead of towards Enjolras. He pulled his legs up onto the bed, somehow managing to find enough space. It was only by wrapping his arms around Enjolras and coiling their legs together, being ultra careful of the blonde's cast, that he managed to fit next to Enjolras at all but Enjolras didn't seem to care, instantly pushed his face into Grantaire's neck.

"Thank you," Enjolras breathed. "I love you."

"Yeah yeah," Grantaire murmured. "I love you too. Now go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

* * *

Grantaire was asleep when Enjolras awoke but he could sense someone else in the room with them. Turning his head slightly, Enjolras saw Combeferre sat on a chair at his side of the bed, lost in the pages of his book.

"Anything good?" he asked, voice croaking a little from lack of use as he manuvered around, eventually managing to extract his legs from Grantaire's and roll over on the bed so he was facing Combeferre, his back pressed to Grantaire's chest.

"What?" Combeferre sounded confused.

"The book. Is it anything good?"

"Oh, it's the new Discworld book. She always sends me it, calls it my birthday or christmas present dependant on which date we're closest to. Not sure how pleased Eponine is that I don't just tell her to stop, but I guess that can't be helped."

"She?"

"Heather. An ex-girlfriend, one I'm still friends with. She lives out in Australia." Combeferre shrugged. "I might tell you about her some day. You missed a lot, and us two have barely caught up at all when you think about how much we used to share."

"Why Discworld? Out of all the books she could have chosen, why Discworld?"

"I was wearing a Discworld t-shirt on our first date." Combeferre smiled at the memory. "It all seems so long ago now."

The two friends were quite comfortable with the silence that then fell, simply sitting there both thinking.

"Have you heard from Them?" Enjolras asked finally, making Combeferre sigh.

"Yes," he said reluctantly. "Two days after the accident. They'd read about it in the papers and were insisting on looking after Alana, because she "needs to be with her family"." Combeferre did air speech marks as he spoke. "I never told Grantaire, he was in a bad enough state then as it was."

"How did you get rid of them?"

"I told them Alana was with Grantaire and that I couldn't think of anyone more suited to taking care of her in this situation." Combeferre smirked. "As you can imagine, they didn't take that well."

"I'll bet," Enjolras laughed. "I wish I could have seen the look on his face."

"It was quite impressive. I got a rant on how I should talk to my elders, but I haven't paid attention to David since we were seven."

"I'm almost surprised he turned up at all," Enjolras murmured. Quietly he told Combeferre about the letter his father had sent a few months earlier. "He basically disowned me because I had a daughter without being married."

"David Molloy just likes to be in control of everything and everyone."

"True."

Silence fell again.

"So, you and 'Ponine..." Enjolras started, making Combeferre smile.

"It's her idea. I never thought she'd be the one to bring up something like kids, but I'm glad she did."

"Well, if I ever move into a bigger place, their Uncle Enjolras will always be around for babysitting," Enjolras promised, wincing as he shifted and caught his ankle.

"How are you feeling?" Combeferre asked when he noticed.

"Stiff mostly. And confused. I'm still trying to take everything in." He sighed. "Two months is a long time to miss. So much has happened! I mean, Marius is a dad! Cosette as a mother, yeah, I can see that. But Marius as a dad..." He shook his head. "I still can't get my head round that."

"It's less crazy than the idea of Bahorel as a dad," Combeferre joked, but Enjolras's eyes widened at the words.

"Please tell me Bahorel hasn't knocked anyone up," Enjolras asked worriedly.

"Good God no or at least if he has, no girl is admitting to him being the father."

Their laughter faded when Grantaire sighed and shifted on the bed, Enjolras twisting his head round to look at the artist.

"He's still asleep," he said more softly than before, looking back over at Combeferre. "'Ferre... How is my daughter? Really. Because I'm not sure how much I can believe Grantaire on this particular subject."

"...She cries," Combeferre said finally, after a long internal debate. "A lot. Everytime she came to see you. She misses you Enj."

"I can't believe she's five," the blonde murmured, eyes not quite focused on anything as he lost himself in his thoughts. "She's a year older, and I missed it."

"Look at it this way - at least it was only two months. It could have been two years, or forever." Closing his book, Combeferre stood and looked down at the pair on the bed. "I need to get home before Eponine starts to worry. I only came back today because she's working a late shift, and sitting here with you, even if you are sleeping, sure beats sitting in an empty flat."

"See you round," Enjolras replied as he left, snuggling back closer to Grantaire and closing his eyes, letting himself fall straight back into sleep.

* * *

"Damn it you can't keep me here forever!"

Grantaire and Marius sighed as they approached the door, Marius glancing down at his son who was nestled in his arms.

"Why do I get the feeling Enjolras isn't in a child friendly mood?" he said dryly, looking back up at Enjolras's hospital room door again.

"He'll calm down," Grantaire said knowingly, though he started to doubt it when he heard Enjolras carry on berating his nurse.

"I want to go home. I am fine, I can sit up on my own thank you very mu- Gorramit I'm fine! How many times do I have to tell you that I can manage?"

"Enjolras, you're two days out of a coma. The nurse is not being unreasonable trying to help you," Grantaire chuckled as he entered the room. "We brought someone special for you to meet. This is Chris."

"Christopher," Marius corrected, making his way over so Enjolras could get a proper look, the nurse taking the opportunity to sneak away as he did so.

"He's gorgeous," Enjolras murmured, smiling softly. Pushing himself up, he glared at Grantaire as the artist moved forwards to help, insisting instead on manouvering into a seated position without any help. Holding out his non-broken arm he asked, "May I?", an almost fuzzy-look entering his eyes when Marius carefully placed his son in Enjolras's care. Marius backed up to join Grantaire as Enjolras started talking softly to the baby.

"I wish I could have seen him with Alana," Grantaire murmured.

"Well, you may get the chance to see him with a kid yet," Marius smirked knowingly.

"You know, I can still hear you," Enjolras commented, making Marius blush.

"Sorry."

"So I was talking to the doctor earlier, and he said you may be able to leave in a few days," Grantaire told Enjolras, taking his usual seat next to his bed. "They're taking the casts off today to see if they're healed, and then they're going to do an x-ray of your head, and then hopefully you can go home. They're just being cautious right now."

"Well I wish they'd hurry up," Enjolras grumbled.

"Patiece my friend," Marius chuckled. "For once in your life will you just relax and let someone take care of you."

"But that means just lying here because they won't let me move, and I hate lying still."

"You complain like an old woman," Marius commented, earning himself a glare. "Okay, so no comments about you or your attitude allowed. Understood." Marius paused. "So what can we talk about?"

"Tell him about Christopher," Grantaire suggested.

"But all you guys tell me to shut up whenever I start talking about him."

"Yes, but it might bore him to sleep," the artist teased, "and then we'll all get some peace and quiet."

"You know that sex you were planning on having, like, ever again," Enjolras said threateningly, and Grantaire instantly put on his best innocent face. "Go on Marius. You won't bore me, I swear. I wasn't much different when I had Allie, except there was only really one person I spoke to and considered a friend back then."

"Well I'm just going to let you two fine gentlemen talk and coo over my handsome little godson whilst I go and attempt to find myself a decent cup of coffee, something I very much doubt this joint has but which I will search for valiantly none-the-less."

"White, two sugars please," Marius said absentmindedly, at the same time as Enjolras smirked at his boyfriend and said, "Black, no sugar."

"I don't remember that being an offer," Grantaire shot back over his shoulder as he left, both men laughing quietly as he did so.

* * *

"Daddy!"

Enjolras let out a little 'oof' as Alana practically threw herself at him, arms wrapping around him as she hugged her father tightly.

"Hey kiddo," he murmured, bending and kissing the top of her head as he hugged her back. "I missed you sweetheart."

"I missed you too daddy. Are you coming home now?"

"Not for a couple of days yet," Enjolras sighed, settling back into the chair and letting his daughter climb onto his knee and hug him again. As he spoke he stroked her hair lightly, letting the rhythm of it relax him. "The doctors still have a few tests to do, and I have to get used to walking with crutches."

"So your arm is healed but your leg isn't?" Grantaire checked from where he was leant against the wall.

"My arm, leg and wrist are healed because they were basic breaks," Enjolras explained. "My ankle however shattered. There's three bolts in there holding it together, and after looking at x-rays they've decided I have to wear an ankle strap thing for the forseeable future."

"Bright red, I like it."

"Well he did ask what colour I'd like. I almost went for green, but then this caught my eye."

"It suits you."

"Thanks." Moving his gaze back to Alana, Enjolras asked, "So how's school?" He listened intently as Alana spoke, asking question after question in an attempt to catch up on everything he'd missed in his daughter's life.

"Time up I'm afraid," a nurse interrupted, poking his head into the room and giving them all a "sorry" smile.

"They're getting stricter now I'm getting better," Enjolras grumbled, but he didn't complain too much, instead making Alana promise to get Grantaire to bring her back again the next day.

"We'll be here," Grantaire promised, leaning down and giving Enjolras a lingering but otherwise chaste kiss as Alana stood up. "And Courfeyrac will be here in the morning. He's giving mum a lift to the station so he said he'd call round afterwards."

"I'll try not to die of boredom before then."

* * *

"Home sweet home," Combeferre said with a smile as he pulled up outside Enjolras's flat. "I'll grab your bag, you just go wait for the lift."

"They finally fixed it?" Enjolras asked, surprised. The elevator had been broken since before Enjolras had moved in to the building - according to one tenant it had been broken for the past three years.

"No, we just got Feuilly to take a look at it after Grantaire told us about your ankle. His foster dad used to be an electrician and engineer, so he picked up a few tricks when he was younger."

"Lucky us." Enjolras winced as he climbed out of the car but managed to hide it from Combeferre. "God I've missed this place."

"Good to be home I'll bet."

The cheers when Enjolras finally entered the flat were deafening, the blonde staring round in slight shock at all his friends.

"What, you come home after two months in a coma and you expect us to not throw you a party?" Courfeyrac laughed, pulling Enjolras into a hug. "You're an idiot sometimes."

"I guess I just wasn't thinking," Enjolras admitted, hugging his friend back. Leaning his crutches against the wall he made his way carefully over to his chair, earning himself disapproving looks off Combeferre, Joly and Grantaire but not caring at all. "And before any of you say anything, I am fine."

"Sure, which is why there's red fabric practically holding your leg together and being the only reason you can even stand," Grantaire muttered darkly.

"Try not to murder him when he gets on your nerves," Combeferre suggested with a wry smile as everyone crowded round Enjolras, clapping Grantaire on the back as he did so and making him laugh.

"I'll do my best."

* * *

"Alright people, everybody out," Joly announced at around nine o'clock, when Enjolras failed to hide a yawn. "Enjolras needs his rest."

"I'm fine!" Enjolras tried to protest, but no-one was listening, all of his friends instead wishing him good night and all the best as they headed for the door. Within minutes there was only Combeferre and Joly left, though they were soon joined by Grantaire who'd been checking on Alana for Enjolras. He'd wanted to check on his daughter to make sure she was asleep when the Amis were being too loud as he'd wanted to put her to bed but everyone had ignored him, Combeferre instead forcing Enjolras to stay in his seat while Grantaire had looked after Alana.

"She's fast asleep," Grantaire reassured him, dropping down onto the sofa with a sigh. "Where's everyone gone?"

"Home, Enjolras needs to rest," Joly said firmly, Grantaire nodding to show he understood.

"Can I have a lift off one of you two then please?" he asked as he stood again, shrugging on his jacket.

"No, you can stay," Enjolras said quickly, half-rising from his seat. "That is, if you want to. Please."

"'Course I will," Grantaire replied instantly, hanging his jacket back up again.

"Oh good, he can help you stand up to wash in the morning then," Joly said very businesslike, not noticing the faint blush that both men got at that idea. "Don't keep him up all night, don't let him do too much tomorrow, and for goodness sake keep him sat down or his ankle will never heal properly."

"Got it," Grantaire said with a cheeky salute, making the doctor roll his eyes.

* * *

Getting Enjolras to his bedroom that night was interesting and took far longer than Grantaire had expected. He refused the crutches, shooting Grantaire death glares when he dared hold them out. It took him almost falling when he stood for him to finally accept Grantaire's help, but even then he refused to ask, instead just continuing to glare at Grantaire as the artist caught his boyfriend's arm.

"Come on, let's go to bed," Grantaire said tiredly, wrapping his arm round Enjolras's waist. "Don't think of it as me helping you, just call it us being halfway romantic after two months apart." That made Enjolras relax slightly, the glare fading.

"Well then, thank you for the romance," he murmured, nuzzling into Grantaire's neck as they entered the bedroom.

Once they were in bed Grantaire reached out for his boyfriend, pulling him closer and kissing him softly.

"Never do that again," he whispered, eyes glittering with unshed tears. "You scared me so fucking much Enjolras. I had to watch you almost die twice, and I'm not sure I can survive that again. So please, take care in future, okay? For yourself and for your daughter if not for me."

"It'll always be for both of you," Enjolras muttered in reply, kissing Grantaire again as the artist wrapped his arms around the smaller man, still mindful of his healed injuries and being careful not to hold him too tightly. Wrapped together like this the two men fell asleep, and if Grantaire's pillow was a little damp next morning well, it didn't have to be mentioned by either.


	31. Not An Invalid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras tries to talk Grantaire into not treating him like an invalid, Courfeyrac's mind is always in the gutter but he still occasionally has some good ideas, and Alana just enjoys having her dad back at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. This should have updated a long time ago. I blame exams. And then, once they were finally over and done with, someone gave me A Game Of Thrones, so the past three days has been spent reading and watching that. Late updates can probably also be blamed on that actually, I'm kinda hooked.
> 
> But here it is! Not quite as long as I'd originally planned, but once I actually sat down to write this I realised I couldn't remember any ideas I'd had for it.
> 
> Also, someone made a fanmix for this story! http://8tracks.com/enjoulras/compatibility So, a huge thank you to all my reviewers, as always, and an extra one to Enjoulras for that. :)

Grantaire was woken by the muffled swearing from the corner of the room, and his arms closed on empty space as he automatically reached over to pull Enjolras closer.

"Why are you up?" he asked softly, knowing his boyfriend could hear him.

"I needed the bathroom. How many times do I have to tell you I can manage?"

"The language seems to indicate otherwise." Lifting his head from the pillow, Grantaire looked over at Enjolras who was leaning against the doorframe. "If you're so fine then walk over here and get back into bed." Enjolras simply scowled at him. "Enjolras, you've been in a coma and have a healing ankle. It's to be expected that you need help."

"I'm fine," Enjolras muttered stubbornly, taking a deep breath and moving away from the door. He'd only managed two steps into the room when he winced, his face contorting with pain as his ankle gave up on him. Grantaire rarely moved so fast, at Enjolras's side almost before he hit the ground and hovering next to him worriedly, unsure what to do once he was there.

"Are you okay?" he demanded, long fingers brushing over Enjolras's ankle lightly as he checked for damage - not that he was sure he'd know if Enjolras had rehurt himself, but Grantaire had to do something.

"Bar my pride, yes."

"Damn your pride. Come on, let's get you back to bed."

Sliding his arms under Enjolras's knees and back, Grantaire scooped the blonde up and carried him over to the bed, carefully laying him down and ignoring all protests and orders to "Put me down right now!".

"Shut up," Grantaire said not unkindly as he slipped under the covers next to him. "And come here." He pulled Enjolras into his arms almost as carefully as he had the night before, kissing the other man's forehead. "There. Better, see?" Enjolras ignored him, instead snuggling further into Grantaire's arms. "If you keep making my life hard work when I'm only trying to look after you, I will just leave," Grantaire warned then. "Yes, I love you, but there is no way in hell I'm putting up with your shit. You are the world's worst patient."

"Can we please just forget the fact that I'm supposedly an invalid for five minutes?" Enjolras whined. "Because Joly has been reminding me of this way too much recently, and will continue doing."

"On one condition. You actually use your crutches. And all the time, even if it's just round the flat."

Enjolras hesitated before sighing. "Fine."

"Then we can forget it for now," Grantaire allowed.

"Thank you." Enjolras kissed at Grantaire's neck lightly and smiled, nipping gently at one spot.

"Down boy," Grantaire chuckled, Enjolras humming happily at the vibrations of the laugh against his lips. "What time is it?"

"Half five," Enjolras murmured. "Alana won't be awake for ages yet, don't worry."

"That wasn't my worry. And before you say anything about me already breaking our deal from just now, it's not that you're so soon out of hospital either. I could just really do with some sleep right now," Grantaire admitted softly. "You might have been asleep for two months, but some of us rarely managed to get our eyes shut."

"Then sleep," Enjolras replied instantly, shifting so that it was now him holding Grantaire instead of the other way round. "You look shattered, so sleep. I've got you."

Grantaire was asleep within seconds, a sense of safety blanketing him as he lay in Enjolras's arms.

* * *

"You're actually using your crutches!" Courfeyrac exclaimed when Enjolras opened the door, beaming at his friend. "How did Grantaire manage that? I must congratulate him."

"He promised to forget I'm meant to be an invalid, and you can congratulate him later. He's asleep," Enjolras told him as he stepped back to let Courfeyrac in. "You know, you don't have to knock, you can just come in."

"With you and Grantaire living here? No thank you, I'd like to keep a hold of what little sanity I have left."

"Mind out of the gutter, we have got a five-year-old here as well."

"So how come 'Taire's still asleep at almost lunch?" Courfeyrac asked as he followed Enjolras through to the lounge, ruffling Alana's hair when he passed her sat on the floor playing. "He's normally up pretty early these days. Unless you wore him out last night." His suggestive wink was met with a roll of blue eyes, simply making the older man laugh.

"He looked exhausted and confessed to not having slept much recently, so when he managed to fall asleep I figured I'd just leave him for now," Enjolras explained.

"And there was me coming round to ask him about Friday. Ah well. So what's happening with you two now? You living together officially or what?"

"I've no idea. We haven't talked about anything like that yet." Enjolras glanced over in the direction of his bedroom. "We were planning on taking things slow this time, and if you think about it we've only been on three dates this time round. Though Grantaire has been living here to look after Alana. I don't want to just throw him out."

"Then don't. Tell him you'd like him to stay for a bit - I know, say you might need his help for a couple of weeks because you're on crutches. Then once the pair of you are used to living together, asking him to move in will be easy." Courfeyrac laughed at the look of shock on Enjolras's face. "Hey, I can have good ideas sometimes you know."

"So what's happening on Friday?" Enjolras asked, trying to move the subject away from his love life.

"Your boyfriend has his first solo exhibition. We were wondering what he wants for the opening event."

"Knowing 'Taire, something quiet."

"True." Courfeyrac frowned. "Well he has to have something to give it some publicity."

"What about something similar to the last exhibition he had a picture in?" Enjolras suggested after they'd sat in silence for a couple of minutes.

"He would never agree to so many people."

"Not what I meant. It was family, friends and officials who were invited right?" Courfeyrac nodded when Enjolras paused. "Then we invite them this time. All of us, any other friends Grantaire has in town, his mother and other family if they want to come, and then official people, like Hacker and the mayor and the newspaper. That way the exhibition gets the publicity it will need, but there's not too many people there."

"Yeah, what he said," Grantaire mumbled, yawning as he entered the room and flopped down next to Courfeyrace on the sofa. "Morning Courf."

"Afternoon 'Taire."

Grantaire shot Enjolras a look which was half annoyance, half thanks at having been left to sleep so late.

"Morning papa," Alana said as she climbed up on his knee to hug him, Grantaire smiling softly as he kissed her hair.

"Morning Allie."

"Play with me?" she pleaded, giving him the huge eyes she was so good at. "I asked daddy but he said no."

"Later," Grantaire promised, smirking at the look on Courfeyrac's face when Alana sighed and stood up.

"Papa?"

"I didn't tell her to call me it, she just did one night," Grantaire muttered somewhat defensively. "Because I'm not her dad but was looking after her like a father would, and that's what Valjean is to Cosette."

"You gotta admit, it's perfect logic to a child," Enjolras shrugged. "I don't have a problem with it, so long as Alana's happy and Grantaire doesn't mind."

"So, changing the subject away from me apparently being a papa, why were you talking about who to invite to an exhibition?" Courfeyrac quickly explained, and Grantaire groaned. "Darn, I forgot about that thing. I've still some paintings to finish for that."

"You can focus on them tomorrow. Today, we're just relaxing," Enjolras said firmly. Courfeyrac gasped loudly, pretending to die from shock.

"Oh my god, did you really just say that? Who are you and what have you done with Enjy?"

"Courfeyrac!"

* * *

"You know, I should probably be considering going home," Grantaire murmured as he exited the kitchen, seating himself next to Enjolras and resting his head on the blonde's shoulder.

"Oh yeah, looks like you're really considering it," Enjolras laughed quietly, manouvering so he could slide his arm round Grantaire's shoulders. "You don't have to go just yet if you don't want to."

"Mmm, maybe." They sat there in silence for over ten minutes, both completely relaxed. When Grantaire felt Enjolras shift slightly due to his arm starting to go numb, he turned and nuzzled at his boyfriend's neck. "I suppose I could stay one more night," he whispered, lightly running his hand up Enjolras's chest to rest at the back of his neck. "That is, if you feel okay."

"I'm fine," Enjolras reassured him quickly, shifting so he was sat on top of Grantaire, straddling him with his knees pressed against the artist's thighs. The slight wince when he caught his ankle didn't go unmissed, but Grantaire decided he'd just be careful as he felt just how 'fine' Enjolras was pressing into his hip, sending all the blood in his body rushing south.

"Fuck," Grantaire groaned when the blonde rolled his hips down, shifting his hands to rest on Enjolras's waist. "Aren't you supposed to be taking things carefully?"

"I have been taking things carefully all day," Enjolras whispered into his boyfriend's ear. "In fact, since absurdly early last night. I have rested enough."

"Are you sure?"

Enjolras kissed Grantaire as reply, Grantaire eagerly kissing him back in reply.

"It's been over two months," Enjolras said when they finally parted, voice ragged.

"For you it's barely been a week," Grantaire retorted, one of his hands moving up to run through Enjolras's incredibly short hair.

"Shush."

The reply only made Grantaire laugh, pulling Enjolras back down into another heated kiss.

This was only the second time since Enjolras's return that they had had sex, but it could not be more different to the first. The night before the accident had been frantic and desperate, fast and hard as both men relished in being back together after six years apart. This evening was slow and loving, Grantaire taking care to be more gentle than normal due to Enjolras being less than fourty-eight hours out of hospital and Enjolras clinging to his lover as he cried out Grantaire's name.

"I love you," Grantaire whispered as they lay together in the post-coital bliss, Grantaire's arms pulling Enjolras firmly to his chest.

"I love you too."

Moments later Grantaire was chuckling. "You know, I haven't had sex on a sofa in years. Makes me feel like a student again." Enjolras couldn't help but laugh.

"I think it's the first time we've managed it without there being an argument beforehand."

"Record then."

Silence fell again as their breathing slowed and they relaxed.

"We should probably consider moving," Enjolras sighed finally, pushing himself up. "Before we fall asleep here and Allie walks in on us in the morning."

"Good point." Catching the boxers Enjolras threw at him, Grantaire quickly wriggled into them and climbed to his feet. "I am going home tomorrow though. Before the guys think I've moved in here permanently."

Enjolras opened his mouth to try Courfeyrac's suggestion, but then sighed again and closed it. "Okay," was all he said.

"It's just because I think Alana needs some time just with you, to reassure her that you're not going to be leaving again. I mean, you saw her earlier, she barely wanted to leave your side all day. She never normally plays in the centre of the room right next to the armchair, it made it obvious." Grantaire sounded defensive, as if making sure Enjolras wasn't going to be offended by his decision.

"Grantaire," Enjolras interrupted, grabbing his boyfriend's hand. "Look, it's up to you, okay? You can stay here as long as you like, and you can go home whenever. I don't mind. Just don't ever feel like you have to stay or have to go. Now, as it's not yet tomorrow, can we please go to bed? Because I am actually getting tired."

* * *

Grantaire had been right, Enjolras decided the following day, when Alana glued herself to his side even more than she had the previous. She even stayed there when he flicked over to BBC Parliament to find out what he'd missed, arms wrapped tight around his slim waist and head nestled against his side as she took comfort in him just being there. Enjolras never said a word about it, instead resting his left arm on his daughter's side as he played with her hair absentmindedly.

Eventually, he plucked up the courage to do the job he'd been putting off all day. Turning the TV down, he picked up his mobile.

"Hi Sean," he said quietly when someone picked up on the other end. "It's Enjolras Molloy. I thought I'd best ring up and tell you I'm awake, and find out what happened with my job. As in, do I still have it?"

Alana looked up at that, but Enjolras's face gave nothing away as he listened to the answer.


	32. Ring Out, Solstice Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life returns to normal, a wedding takes place and Christmas comes about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this three weeks ago. I then spent a fortnight in Transylvania and have since been desperately trying to take enough time off work to catch up on sleep. As such, apologies for the large delay between chapters.
> 
> Any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone, belonging to those moments where I was typing whilst falling asleep.

The next few weeks passed smoothly, Enjolras spending as much of the time as possible with his daughter. When she was at school during the day, he'd either join Grantaire somewhere or work from home. Unofficially of course, Jim Hacker has forced him to take a month off to fully recover before he came back, but no-one was refusing the work he sent in either so long as he didn't send in too much.

In fact, the only people complaining about Enjolras working was his friends - mainly Grantaire and Combeferre.

"Slow down," Combeferre advised one day when Enjolras was visiting. "They've managed this long, they can survive another week or so."

"But there's nothing to do at home," Enjolras complained, glaring when Eponine switched the TV back over from BBC Parliament. "So when do I get to become Uncle Enjolras?" he asked quickly when he saw her open her mouth, changing the subject before he could be told off by someone else.

"When we tell you," she replied, leaning into Combeferre automatically and smiling. "So you can just wait."

"I hate waiting."

"We'd noticed." The couple smiled lovingly at each other when they spoke together and Enjolras instantly felt out of place.

"I need to go," he muttered, checking his watch. "Doctor's appointment."

"You don't have to feel like you need to go," Eponine said instantly, apologies written clearly into her tone.

"Yes I do, because I really have got a doctor's appointment," he insisted. That much was true, though the appointment wasn't for another two hours. "Enjoy the rest of your day. 'Ferre, I'll see you tomorrow."

Grantaire had learnt not to say anything, knowing Enjolras wouldn't listen to him but only occasionally Combeferre, and so he instead tried to distract Enjolras. He was the only adult who could successfully, either wrapping his arms round Enjolras and kissing down the back of his neck or flopping down into his lap and pouting until the blonde took pity on him and paid the artist full attention.

His time with Alana was spent mostly alone and often fairly quietly, reading or playing together in evenings then visiting nearby attractions at weekends. In truth Enjolras was enjoying the chance to relax a little, but he'd never admit it to anyone.

The night of the exhibition opening draw larger crowds than Grantaire had expected, with all his friends and families showing up. When even the family of some friends showed up he was stunned, especially as everybody seemed to love it. Courfeyrac found him about half an hour in, hiding in a corner with a pint of coke.

"This is your show, you're meant to be the centre of attention," he pointed out, but Grantaire had shook his head firmly.

"Maybe I don't want to be," he muttered in reply, glancing round the crowded room again. "Do I really know this many people?"

"Yes, and they all love you now get your arse out there and talk to people before I set Babs on you."

The threat of his mother worked and Grantaire was soon mingling again, though it was noticable how close to Enjolras he stuck.

"Your mother seems to be making friends," Cosette murmured when he next passed her, catching his elbow. "She's been talking to papa for over an hour now."

"Good," Grantaire shrugged."Because no offence, but your father really doesn't talk to enough people."

"Oh agreed."

Grantaire and Enjolras ended that night in each others arms, though it rarely happened again during that first month. Instead Grantaire gave the small family time alone to recover, only occasionally joining them of an evening.

* * *

Two weeks after Enjolras's return home the group gathered at the local family court, all just as nervous as Joly, Musichetta and Bossuet as the judge considered their request for a name change.

"They're lucky they didn't get Peterson," Courfeyrac murmured into Combeferre's ear, leaning forwards to talk to his friend on the bench in front. "He's awful strict and old-fashioned. Homophobic too. He'd refuse them in a heartbeat."

"What about this guy?" Combeferre replied, glancing back.

"Ross Jones is a nice enough guy. I reckon he'll allow it. Well, I hope he does."

When the judge allowed the change of name, all the friends cheered, grinning at the luck of complete and utter relief on Bossuet's face. He had been convinced his luck would stand against them.

"Party back at ours!" Feuilly announced once they were outside, beaming at the trio. "Misters and Ms Aiken."

"Damn that sounds good," Musichette laughed, pulling her boys towards her. "Party it is."

* * *

Enjolras's first day back at work was nowhere near to what he'd expected.

"This is Tom," Hacker introduced soon after he'd arrived. "He's been covering for you and will be taking on some of your roles. Not because you're not up to it, you've proved that and that you're eager to be back, but because I need you doing more work with me. Think of it as a promotion of sorts."

"Will I have to spend more time in London?" Enjolras checked immediately, relaxing slightly when Hacker shook his head.

"No, not at all. Only if you want to. Paul was hoping to move to London however, so he'll be working with me down there and you up here."

"Sounds perfect then sir," Enjolras smiled.

He didn't tell many about this change, only Combeferre and Grantaire when the three met up for a meal that evening. Combeferre had decided it would be a nice way to end Enjolras's first day back at work, although while they had originally planned for Courfeyrac to be present as well the fourth friend had sent on his apologies with Grantaire.

"Jehan's ill, so he's stopping home to look after him," the artist explained, looking like he was glad to be out of the house. "Joly called round about somethig and now he's panicking about what Jehan's ill with, and I swear to God I am not going back to that place tonight." When his friends laughed Grantaire glared, but there was no true annoyance present.

"You can stay at mine," Enjolras offered, and to no-one's surprise Grantaire agreed instantly.

The trio stayed at the restaurant late into the night, laughing and joking together, Enjolras explaining about his new work, Combeferre filling them in on how broody Eponine was getting whenever they looked after Christopher, and Grantaire retelling the many adventures that were had by Feuilly and Bahorel at home. When it was finally time to leave they parted reluctantly, all having enjoyed themselves much more than they'd expected.

"We have to do this again," Combeferre decided as they loitered outside. "It's been too long since just the three - well, four if Courf had been around - met up for any length of time."

"Drag Jehan along as well and it'll be like we're all still living together," Grantaire agreed.

"Only with less food fights," chuckled Enjolras. His hand was clasped firmly in Grantaire's, a content smile on his face as he leant slightly against his boyfriend.

"Maybe once they're married."

"Aye, it's a little too close to the day now. It'd just clash with their stag nights." Grantaire grinned at the look on Enjolras's face.

"I can't believe they're both having one," he grumbled. "Marius's was bad enough."

"Well it's me and Grantaire planning them, so I'll leave you to worry." And with that, Combeferre left.

"Ready to be best man?" Enjolras asked as they headed home, hand still clutching Grantaire's tightly.

"Hell no!" he laughed. "I'm tempted to just wing the speech. Bloody Courf. He could have picked anyone."

"And he chose his oldest friend," Enjolras finished for him. "You'll do good. Just keep it child friendly."

Grantaire pouted at that. "But that pretty much removes every single tale I can remember about Courfeyrac. Bar maybe his courtship of Jehan."

"Tough."

* * *

Combeferre's plans were perfect for Jehan, the evening consisting of a poetry reading and ukulele concert followed by a visit to the nearest club. Courfeyrac found himself kidnapped by the girls for a night of films and wine whilst the guys were out, though he really didn't care as much as he pretended to, instead quite enjoying himself.

Grantaire's ideas for Courfeyrac's stag night were just as ideal, consisting of a table in the corner of their local pub on karaoke night. Those who disliked singing in public either sat and laughed at the rest of their friends or played pool, though by the end of the night almost all were drunk enough to be crowded round the mike. Grantaire was the only exception to this, but he'd been willing to sing from the start anyway.

When the alarm went off and Enjolras groaned his way into life the following morning Grantaire couldn't help but chuckle, remembering only too well so many hangovers of his own.

"I'm still not used to it being this way around," he smirked, kissing his way down Enjolras's jaw.

"You bastard," Enjolras mumbled, burying his head into the pillow. "It's six am."

"It's also the day of the wedding, so rise and shine!" And with that Grantaire yanked the covers off. It was the first time in many years he'd heard such language from Enjolras as he heard then and it made him laugh all the harder, the laughter earning him the finger.

"How the hell did you survive this for so many years?" Enjolras groaned as he flailed helplessly on the bed. "It's so cold and my head hurts."

"Oh don't be such a baby." Leaning over Grantaire peppered his face with kisses until Enjolras stopped whining and started kissing him back, only then pulling away and starting to find clothes. "You do need to get up though."

"Bastard."

"Call me that again and I'll change my name to Snow."

* * *

"Courfeyrac was three when I met him for the first time," Grantaire started, wishing he had a glass of some sort to hold as he looked out at everyone watching him. Combeferre's speech had passed without a single glitch, making Jehan blush and the gathering laugh at all the right moments, and now Grantaire was hoping for his to work just as well. "They'd moved in next door and I thought he was really cool, this new boy with the curly hair and weird accent. Admittedly I was more than a little wrong, but it took until I was five to work that out." Courfeyrac's protests were drowned out by their friends' laughter. "If I got in trouble, he was most likely to blame, bar a few occasions. Hell, he's the reason for most of the stuff which has happened to me over these past eight years, ever since he introduced me to Enjolras. So, as a thanks for that, I'm going to do him a favour and keep this short and sweet. I mean, it's very _very_ tempting to tell you all everything I know about him, but there are children present. Basically then, the toast. It took you over six months to tell Jehan you loved him, I'm still grateful it didn't take you that long to get from decision to proposal or proposal to wedding. May the rest of your lives be long and happy together, blah blah blah and all the rest." Grabbing a water glass, Grantaire held it up. "To Courfeyrac, both the best and worst friend a guy could ever have."

"Short but sweet," Courfeyrac grinned afterwards, reaching over to clap Grantaire on the back. "I can't believe you didn't even tell one embarrassing story though."

"As I said, children are present," Grantaire shrugged. "I think both my mother and Enjolras would have had things to say if I'd told any of the tales I can remember. At least none of us had to tell a parent about a pregnancy." They both laughed as they glanced over at Marius, leaving the younger man confused. "You know, I've never been to a civil partnership ceremony before. It was different."

"Making you want one of your own?" teased Courfeyrac, anticipating the hand flying towards the back of his head and ducking.

"Don't you dare say anything like that when Enjolras is nearby," Grantaire hissed. "It is way too soon for that discussion."

"What discussion?"

Hearing the voice behind them, both Grantaire and Courfeyrac paled.

"Nothing of importance," Grantaire said quickly, spinning to face his boyfriend. "Just Courfeyrac being an idiot. As normal."

"Riiight." Enjolras didn't believe him but decided not to push the issue. "Courf, Jehan is looking for you. He wants to start the music, and the first dance won't really work if only half the happy couple is present on the dance floor. Besides, you're stealing my boyfriend's time." Dropping into the empty chair as soon as Courfeyrac moved, Enjolras wrapped an arm round Grantaire's waist and pulled him closer. "Your mother has borrowed my daughter," he whispered, resting his head against the artist's shoulder. "And is making comments about how she never gets to see you dance."

"She can wait. Jehan and Courf have to dance first."

"Won't have to wait long," he replied as the first few bars of music started playing. Both men then burst out laughing when they realised what song it was. " _The Rains of Castamere_. You have got to be kidding."

"Oh my God that is so Courfeyrac," Grantaire snorted.

"We're all going to die!" Enjolras declared dramatically, both men collapsing against each other again with laughter when the nearest table gave them odd looks.

"I'm sorry but I don't care if this is just meant to be those two." Standing, Grantaire held out his hand to Enjolras. "If I only dance with you for one song tonight, it has to be this one." Enjolras didn't argue but smiled, placing his hand inside Grantaire's larger one and letting himself be pulled to his feet. Grantaire instantly span the younger man into his arms and onto the floor, holding him closer. "You're terrible at following," he murmured into Enjolras's ear, making the blonde's mouth twitch into a small smile.

"Maybe you should let me lead for once," Enjolras retorted instantly. They had been followed onto the dance floor by the rest of their close friends and so both felt less conspicuous now, to the point where they were comfortable messing around slightly, both challenging for control of the dance. It quickly evened out though, to the point where both men were moving together instinctively.

As the music faded into the next song they separated, Enjolras's eyes searching the room for his daughter. Finding her he beckoned her over, smiling as Alana ran across and practically threw herself into his arms. "Want to dance with me and Uncle R?" he asked quietly, laughing at her enthusiastic response.

"They look happy," Barbara murmured, leaning across the table towards Valjean. "It's been a while since my son has looked quite that content."

"It's a nice change to how he looked when Enjolras was in hospital," Cosette's father agreed. "The three of them really do make a good family, though it took them long enough to get like that."

"They're both fools."

The pair sat in companionable silence watching the dancing, occasionally chatting away but mostly happy with just not being alone for a change.

* * *

"I can't believe you're missing Christmas," Grantaire said mournfully the next morning, hugging Jehan for the tenth time in as many minutes. "You're leaving our house at the mercy of Feuilly and Bahorel. It's going to be destroyed or blown up or something."

"Then stay at home yourself," Jehan said dryly. "Because I plan on enjoying Christmas Day in the sunshine with my husband and that plan is most definitely set in stone."

"Damn but that sounds good," Courfeyrac grinned, hooking a hand round Jehan's waist and dragging him into his side. "I'll never get bored of that word I swear. You must write poem upon poem about it my dear, and I shall read every one a hundred times over." His declaration made his husband laugh.

"Enjoy yourselves," Combeferre told them both, managing to separate them for long enough to pull first Jehan, then Courfeyrac into a tight hug. "And try not to get too bored. A month is a long time to be away from home."

"We'll manage. Now it's only three days till Christmas, so I'm trusting you two not to lose any of the presents." Jehan mock-glared at Combeferre and Grantaire. "If you do lose any, there will be hell to pay and me to answer to."

"I shall guard them with my life," Grantaire promised dramatically, giving a low flourishing bow. "Now go and enjoy yourselves before you miss the plane."

"See you late January," Courfeyrac waved, picking up their bag and dragging Jehan away as he hugged Combeferre again. "Try and survive without us. We'll consider missing you."

"Next time, someone else can bring them to the airport," Combeferre muttered once the newlyweds had finally left to go through customs. "I'd forgotten how long they take to say goodbye." Grantaire simply laughed at that.

"Aye, Courfeyrac has it down to a fine art by now." As they turned and left the terminal, heading back towards Combeferre's car, Grantaire sighed. "It's going to be quiet without them this year."

"You kidding? We have Enjolras, Alana and Christopher to make up for it, not to mention your mother is staying and Valjean is joining us as well. We need those two gone to give us the extra space at the house." Glancing over at the artist, Combeferre couldn't help but smile at the grin which adorned Grantaire's face. "You are such a child when it comes to Christmas."

"I spend most of my life being childish," Grantaire corrected. "'Tis more fun that way."

* * *

Somehow the entire group managed to fit themselves into Grantaire, Bahorel and Feuilly's house on Christmas Day for presents and dinner, an arrangement Bahorel was incredibly pleased with as it meant he had help in the shape of Barbara in the kitchen. Between them they produced almost enough food for half the street, laughing and joking away as they did so, though they bullied Grantaire into actually serving everything, dragging him away from Enjolras for the first time that day.

Both children found themselves spoilt rotten by everyone, and when the adults started the talking Alana announced that she was going to look after Chris. Cosette and Marius let her carry him off to the side of the room and start playing with him, both trusting her with their son although neither fully stopped paying attention to the pair, just in case. Most of the friends had curled up into their couples, with Feuilly only hurling mild abuse at Grantaire and Enjolras when the blonde wrapped himself around the artist and kissed his neck lightly.

"Mistletoe!" Enjolras protested, pointing to the plant hanging over his chair as wrapping paper was thrown at his head, and the wars began. Feuilly and Grantaire had soon formed two different teams and Enjolras was organising the barricade building when Barbara entered the room and clucked at them from near the doorway.

"Jean I'm surprised at you, letting them all act like eight-year-olds," she chastised lightheartedly, not really meaning it but in full mother-mode.

"Ma!" Grantaire shouted, pointing above her head then ducking as a well-aimed ball of paper brushed the top of his curls. "You've found the rest of the mistletoe."

Valjean, having moved away from the battle to join Barbara in the doorway, flushed just as much as she did upon noticing the plant. Next moment however he was shrugging and bending down slightly, brushing his lips across her cheek in a light kiss which had Grantaire's mother blushing more than ever.

"I need to check the turkey," she murmured quickly, escaping from the whoops and cheers coming from all of the friends.

"Oh grow up," Valjean sighed, heading over to the corner where Alana and Christopher were sat. Reading to the children was something he enjoyed very much, especially when it got him out of awkward situations like that.

* * *

"Merry Christmas," Grantaire murmured that night, tracing idle patterns on Enjolras's chest as they lay together in bed, his head pillowed against the blonde's shoulder. "It has been a perfect day."

"It has indeed," Enjolras agreed, tighting his grip marginally on the artist's waist. "Now go to sleep. Love you."

"Aye, you too."

Both slept soundedly, with no dreams to interrupt their rest.


	33. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Feuilly and Enjolras have news which is a shock to someone close to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise so much for the huge time gap between updates here. I've had a broken laptop, a new laptop which arrived broken, packing for uni, working every hour God sends, and feeling crap on top of that, which led to me struggling to write anything at all. But here it is. I hope you like it. *shoves chapter at you and hides*

Feuilly hesitated outside the house, knowing his news probably wasn’t going to go down well with at least one of his friends. They’d had too many run-ins with the police for that to happen.

"Is there a reason why you’re standing outside?" Grantaire asked from behind him, making Feuilly jump. There was an amused tone to his voice that Feuilly found himself relaxing to and he smiled back.

"No, I was just thinking. Considering going out for tea, it was Jehan’s turn to cook," he joked.

Grantaire grimaced then laughed. "I always thought he’d be a good cook. How wrong I was. Well here’s hoping Bahorel or Courf took over early on."

Murmuring agreements Feuilly followed his friend indoors, though he didn’t join in with the shouted greetings, once again lost in his own thoughts. Instead he sat quietly next to Jehan and let the poet read his latest work to him, praising it at the end and even knowing these days what the technical terms he used meant. In fact it wasn’t until they were all sat round the table eating that he decided to tell them.

"I have a new job," he said quietly when there was a lull in the conversation.

"Another? That puts you up to what, three? Four? That’s even beating Eponine." Jehan sat back and raised one eyebrow at him. "Where is it?"

"In town, and I quit the others. This is now my only job. It’s more of a career."

"You quit your carving?" Grantaire wasn’t sure how to take that. "But you loved that part of your job?"

"Grantaire my boss was a selfish bastard who I hated, plus that job was never going to go anywhere. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life stuck in a deadend job and living with my friends because I can’t afford anything else. No offence guys, but let’s be honest, we’re all going to want to move out soon enough."

"So what is it?" Courfeyrac inquired.

"I’ve joined the police. Just passed my fitness test."

"So that’s why you’ve suddenly been working out a lot," Grantaire realised. "Well, congrats mate. They aren’t the easiest to get a job with." Jehan and Courfeyrac added their own murmured congratulations. Standing Grantaire grinned at them all. "And now I shall leave you all to the washing up because some of us have a date tonight."

"I have a date every night," Courfeyrac smirked, pulling Jehan closer.

"Get a room," Feuilly sighed, standing and starting to clear their plates. It was only then that he glanced up at his best friend.

Bahorel’s face was unreadable, a strange event for a man who normally showed his every emotion clearly. Realising what was about to happen the other two quickly made their excuses and escaped, following Grantaire out of the front day for their own night out.

"Go on then," Feuilly said finally, turning to face Bahorel after a few minutes of hiding at the sink. "Get it over with."

"The police?" Bahorel practically hissed. "You’re a policeman? Have you any idea what that means for us? For our group? We’re finally talking about restarting Les Amis, a political activist group, and you’re joining the fucking police! Those bastards did anything they could to stop us back then, to the point where they arrested me, Courf and Marius for no fucking reason, inventing charges against us and losing us all our jobs with the firm, and you want to join them! Are you out of your mind? So what, are you going to be their spy? Let them know whenever we do something they aren’t going to like, whenever we want to join a rally or protest? Fuck this."

"Bahorel!" Feuilly’s voice was sharp and for once managed to shut his friend up. "You have a degree. Out of the guys you all have degrees. I don’t. If I’d stayed in Birmingham all those years ago, maybe I’d have a decent job now. But I didn’t. I moved here because you were the only family I had left and I got what jobs I could to get by. Well, now I don’t want to just get by. Now I want some actual security in my life because I’m twenty-eight years old Bahorel and I do not want to be scratching a living and barely getting by for the rest of my life. So I’m becoming a policeman. No, I don’t expect Enjolras to be overly happy, and I certainly didn’t expect a good response from you, but as your friend I deserve better than a fucking rant on how I’m betraying you. So you can like it or lump it, because it sure as fuck isn’t changing. I’m still going to be me. It’s just a job."

"If it changes you..." Bahorel warned before taking in a deep breath and letting it out again. "Fine. Just don’t bother telling me all about your days because I won’t be interested."

"Fine."

Feuilly finished the washing up in silence, Bahorel grudgingly helping to dry and put away. The pair then went their separate ways, again in silence. Bahorel could be as stubborn as Enjolras when the need arose.

* * *

"Enjolras? You home?" Entering the flat Grantaire raising one eyebrow and looked round in shock. "What the heck happened here?"

"We’re packing. You have a lot of stuff here by the way," Enjolras replied absentmindedly, shooting his boyfriend a quick smile before going back to emptying his bookshelves.

"Where are you going?" he asked slowly as he made his way over.

"We’ve moving. The lease is up and I’ve found a small house, somewhere with a garden where Allie can play and a study and even a spare room." Grabbing Grantaire’s hand Enjolras turned and pulled him closer, kissing him deeply. "Come look at it with me tomorrow?" he asked quietly. "I want to go through it one more time, and I want your opinion."

"Looks like you’ve made your mind up regardless," Grantaire muttered, but he nodded anyway. "Okay, I’ll come with tomorrow. But for now you can leave your packing and relax. We can watch a film or something. Then tomorrow the three of us can go look at this house of yours."

"Can I choose?" Enjolras asked hopefully, leaning into Grantaire as his hands settled on his hips. When Grantaire sighed and nodded he grinned and kissed his boyfriend again, grip tightening as Grantaire kissed back, walking the pair of them closer to the couch.

"One condition," Grantaire warned when they parted for air, both gasping slightly and refusing to move apart more than the few inches needed for speech. "It’s not black-and-white, silent, or historical. Unless it’s a comedy."

"Marx Brothers?"

"Duck Soup."

"Done. You get the snacks, I’ll find the film."

* * *

Grantaire was silent for a long time when they first stood outside the house, long enough that Enjolras reached down for his hand out of worry.

"Well?" he asked quietly.

"It's prettier than I expected, and not much like you if I'm honest. It's the ideal middle-class home by the looks of it. Nice enough neighbourhood, good garden, I'm guessing decent sized rooms from the windows." Grantaire shrugged. "It's nice enough and at the end of the day it's somewhere to live, which is what matters right?"

"Then why are you being so... off about it all?"

"Because I wish you'd told me sooner instead of just springing it on me that you're moving. You say you want my opinion on this place, but you clearly don't care what I think that much because you've already bought the place and are moving in start of next month. Would it have been so difficult to tell me sooner?"

"I want your opinion because I was going to ask you to move in with us!"

Silence fell as the two men stared at each other, a silence only broken when Grantaire turned and strode towards the house, muttering "We'll talk about that after, I'm going to look round" as he went. Enjolras watched him go, letting Grantaire explore the house on his own, leaving him to think things through. Instead he went straight up to the master bedroom a few minutes later, and so was sat on the edge of the bed with a small frown on his face when Grantaire reached him.

Enjolras didn't let him say anything but stood and pulled his boyfriend into a searing kiss, Grantaire pausing for a moment before responding in kind. "So what do you think of this place?" Enjolras murmured when their lips finally parted. Grantaire's reply was a low chuckle as he pushed Enjolras backwards onto the bed and climbed up after him. "I thought you wanted to talk?"

"You distracted me," he whispered, kissing down his neck. "Besides, how can I make a decision about this place if we haven't given it a test run?"

Enjolras laughed. "What, checking out the acoustics or something?"

"Something, yeah," Grantaire mumbled as the blonde groaned and threw his head back, Grantaire having bit down on his collarbone moments before speaking.

"Why are you still talking?" Enjolras practically growled as Grantaire bit and licked at a different spot, rolling them so he was now on top, fingers moving down as he did so to fumble at the button and zip of Grantaire's jeans.

* * *

"So will you move in with us?" Enjolras asked lightly a while later whilst idly tracing patterns on Grantaire's stomach.

"You should definitely have the house," came the reply.

"You didn't answer my question."

Sighing, Grantaire rolled so he was on his side facing the blonde, propped up on one elbow.

"I need my own place," he said softly, blue eyes meeting blue eyes. "It's not that I don't love you, but I need somewhere of my own."

"'Taire, we're practically living together already. I mean, you spend most of your days at mine, and by the closet test we-"

"What the fuck is the closet test?" Grantaire interrupted.

"Half my wardrobe is taken up by your things. Now I don't have a problem with that, I just remember someone once saying that that was one of the tests for when you're living together."

"Except only your wardrobe has that," the artist pointed out. "Mine is just my stuff. So that test is bullshit."

"You say you need your own place. Is that because you need somewhere else to live, or just that you need some space which is purely yours?"

Grantaire smiled slightly. "Both, because if I couldn't escape you sometimes I would probably end up killing you or something."

"Then get dressed and come with me, because I have something to show you. I wasn't going to mention it until later, in the hopes you'd say yes straight away I suppose, but please just remember that I'm not trying to pressure you into anything or using this as a bribe or anything like that, okay? It's just an idea I had when I first looked round this place." Enjolras was desperate that Grantaire understand this.

"Ah, but that means moving away from you and this damn comfortable bed with my damn comfortable pillow." Grantaire flopped back down so his head was resting against Enjolras's chest. "Surely you can show me whatever it is you want to show me later."

"No, because I have to pick Alana up from school in an hour." With a smirk the blonde stood up, smirking even more at the pout then present on Grantaire's lips. "So if you want to see it, you're going to have to move."

Much complaining took place in the ten minutes it took Grantaire to drag himself out of bed and pull some clothes on but eventually he was ready. Following Enjolras down the stairs he let his boyfriend lead him to a door he hadn't even noticed earlier, hidden in the shadows by the back door.

"There's a basement," Enjolras explained as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping back to let Grantaire through. "Two rooms, but it's the second one which is most interesting. I thought this one could be your art room. Somewhere you can paint and draw and whatever for as long as you like, as messily as you like, without getting in anybody's way." Taking Grantaire's hand, Enjolras slipped past him and pulled him into the second, smaller room. "But this room is soundproof. The last guy to live here worked the music for kids TV shows, so he had the room soundproofed. It's also the safest room in the house for electrics. So if you ever wanted to do more work on your music, to record anything else, then this could be your room as well." He took a deep breath. "I didn't want to show you down here then ask because it might sound like I was trying to bribe you or something, using it to convince you to move in."

Sighing, Grantaire took Enjolras's face in his hands and kissed him lightly.

"I love you," he told him. "You know that. But we have tried living together whilst dating and it doesn't work. We piss each other off with the little things, the things that don't matter, and in the end they build up into big things. We fight constantly, about one thing or another, and I don't want that again. So for now, no, I will not move in with you. Maybe one day, maybe soon, but not right now." He smiled and added jokingly, "Though if you haven't a use for that room back there I may still steal it for art."

"It's all yours," Enjolras promised, leaning in to kiss the artist again. "And I understand. I really do. I just hope you say yes soon."

* * *

"You said no?!" Jehan looked like he was about to die from shock, and Cosette didn't look much better. "But, why?"

"Because we fight too much when we live together and I don't want to fight. I like what we have now. We've both somewhere separate we can escape to."

"But he was so sweet, thinking about you and your needs when buying the house."

"Renting, he's renting the house, and that's not the point. The point is that we still argue."

"You'll always argue," Cosette pointed out, picking up her tea then curling further into the chair. "That's just a part of both your characters and a part of your relationship. You need to accept it."

"I do accept it, but me accepting it is different to me choosing to make things worse by moving in with him. Us arguing now isn't too bad because we can have time apart afterwards to calm down. If we live together, if we're stuck in the same place, then we won't last much longer than we did last time." Grantaire sighed. "And I don't want that. I want us to last. And this time round he has a child, and if I move in then we explode again like last time, then that isn't fair on her either. So, not yet. One day."

"So you do want to move in with him?" Jehan double checked, making Grantaire blink at him.

"Um, duh? No fucking shit Sherlock."

"Think it through carefully," Cosette advised, holding up one finger when Grantaire opened his mouth to speak. "Ah ah ah ah, let me finish. Think it through carefully. Yeah, you probably already have done, but think it over again. Weigh up every pro and every con. Pretend you're Enjolras and write it all down in a list, and even if the cons win out, still think it over again. Because sometimes the happiness is worth the rest. It was last time, you said that yourself back when you were still dating. So finish your drink then go home and think."

"And if my answer is still no?" Grantaire asked quietly.

"Then we will accept that without question. However leave it any less than twenty-four hours before making a decision and I'll set Jehan on you."

* * *

It was late next evening when Enjolras opened his door, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he squinted at his visitor.

"'Taire?" he mumbled. "What do you want? It's after two am."

"I was thinking and couldn't sleep," Grantaire said quickly, before he could talk himself out of it. "About your offer. And I came to a decision."

Enjolras frowned as he worked his tired brain through what the artist had just said, blinking when it sank in. "And?" he demanded eagerly.

"I changed my mind. Yes. I'll move in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so there could be a time gap between this and the next chapter. Means I can move onto other ideas I've had since the beginning instead of carrying on struggling.
> 
> Also, as I've been struggling with it all, I'd love to know what you think here. Any constructive criticism or anything would make you loved forever because it would just be a huge help to me atm, so just thanks.


	34. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire moves in, the boys consider moving out, and Les Amis returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, life has gotten in the way of writing. Particularly university. But, it is amazing what you'll do when you wake up at 4am and can't face reading Herodotus but at the same time can't sleep. So here. Hopefully I'll be able to update this soon, but jut in case the writer's block continues, please accept my most humble apologies.
> 
> This update turned out shorter than I thought it was going to (and shorter than how it felt when writing it!) but hey, at least it's an update, right?

“How much stuff do you have?” Enjolras demanded, eyebrows raising as Grantaire carried yet another box into the lounge, stacking it on top of the one full of books.

“Just one more,” he grinned, leaning over and kissing his boyfriend quickly before heading out to collect it, Enjolras following to the front door and leaning there, watching the brunette pick up the largest box yet and carry it carefully towards him, more carefully than he’d held anything all day. When he reached his boyfriend and realised the blonde wasn’t going to move Grantaire arched one eyebrow. “Any reason why you’re blocking my path?” he inquired.

“Kissing door,” Enjolras smirked. “It’s your fault for just then really, you shouldn’t tease folks like that.”

“Enjolras, this is my art stuff,” Grantaire said patiently. “My delicate art stuff. Stuff which is fragile. Let me through to put this down and I swear I will kiss you as much as you like, anywhere you like. Just let me put the blessed thing down.”

“Fair enough,” Enjolras allowed as he shifted to one side, though Grantaire’s hip bumped his as he passed, the artist’s smirk making the blonde suspect purposefully. His eyes narrowed as he followed his boyfriend yet again, suspicions confirmed as Grantaire made sure he gave Enjolras a good view as he bent down. “That’s not really fair you know,” he commented, referring to both Grantaire’s actions and his previous words. “After all, I have to go pick Alana up in ten minutes.”

“Says the person who wanted a kissing door,” Grantaire retorted.

“And? It would only have been a kiss, not an offer to christen the new house.”

“Later,” Grantaire promised, his lips brushing over Enjolras’s again as he turned to face him. “There, now you’ve had your kiss for the door, and here’s a second one so the door can be used again. Now go collect your daughter and I will start putting my stuff away and maybe even start dinner. If you’re lucky.”

“Love you,” Enjolras murmured.

“And I you, but you’re only going out for half an hour, not leaving for a week or something. You don’t have to tell me you love me every time you leave the house,” Grantaire said softly.

“Yeah I do. Just in case.” And with a final lingering kiss Enjolras left quickly, before Grantaire could demand what exactly he meant by that. Sighing the artist set to sorting his belongings. He’d make his boyfriend talk later, or at least would try to.

* * *

“So he’s not leaving?” Alana said as they walked home, her little hand held tightly in Enjolras’s.

“No, he’s living with us.”

“So he’ll be like my papa again.” Enjolras couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah, basically.”

Of all the reactions he was expecting, her hand to tighten in his was not one of them, neither were the panicked words he heard next.

“Does this mean you’re leaving again? Please don’t leave, daddy. I don’t want you to leave. Or be ill and sleep again. I’d miss you.”

“Hey hey hey, I’m going nowhere,” Enjolras promised, crouching down in front of his daughter and pulling her into a tight hug. “You hear me? I’m staying right here. This is different to last time ‘Taire lived with you, because this time he’s living with both of us. Last time wasn’t permanent, this time hopefully is. And I will never leave you because I love you.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, flinging her arms round his neck anyway in a tight hug. “I love you too daddy.”

* * *

“Okay, explain your earlier comment,” Grantaire demanded later that night once they were in their room

“Which one?” Enjolras inquired, already starting to get ready for bed.

“Just in case.”

Enjolras paused and looked over at him.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked softly. “’Taire, I almost died and the last words you heard me say weren’t “I love you” or anything similar but “oh shit I’m going to be late for work see you later”.” He sighed and crossed the room, placing his hands on Grantaire’s shoulders. “There is nothing to say that something won’t happen any time we leave the house there’s that many possibilities in the world, and so I am going to tell you that I love you every time I leave you, just in case, so that if anything ever does happen… Well, you get the idea.” He gave a tired smile. “Is it really so bad to be told so often that I love you?”

“I love you too,” Grantaire whispered in reply, pulling Enjolras into a kiss. “I just… It almost sounds like you’re saying goodbye.”

The blonde raised one eyebrow. “I thought you knew you were stuck with me. Leaving once was more than enough, trust me on that. Never again. Now come to bed.”

* * *

The next few weeks were very strange for the three, for as happy as they were in their little family, that didn’t stop the odd surge of jealousy from taking over one of them. Alana at first hated those moments when Enjolras would pull Grantaire closer and wrap his arms round him, murmuring into his ear softly, as it was less time he spent with her. Grantaire couldn’t help the stab of jealousy whenever Enjolras would spend the afternoon fussing over his daughter, playing or reading with her and almost forgetting Grantaire was there these days. Even Enjolras felt it sometimes, when Alana would take a book over to Grantaire, or spent a morning painting with him. After so long just the two of them, it took some adjusting for everyone to get used to the new living arrangements.

But it happened.

Alana started involving Grantaire in her games with Enjolras, telling the artist strictly that he had to remember who he was or the tea party wouldn’t work. Enjolras would remember him as well, dragging him over to help with silly voices whenever he was reading to his daughter. Grantaire would whisper to Alana to pull her father over to paint with them, taking great delight in Alana trying to teach the blonde how to draw. Cuddles for two on the sofa became cuddles for three, with Alana fitting snugly between them both.

“I’m glad I changed my mind,” Grantaire whispered one night as he snuggled further into Enjolras’s arms.

“Me too.”

* * *

“Courf…” Jehan started, perching on his husband’s knee and waiting until he had his full attention.

“Yes dear?” Courfeyrac smiled, placing a quick kiss on the end of his nose.

“You ignoring the question isn’t going to make it go away,” Jehan said softly. “We are a married couple now and it would be nice to have our own home.”

“True,” he agreed, wrapping his arms round Jehan as he leant back on the sofa so he wouldn’t slip off. “But at the same time, Grantaire just moved out. If we move out as well, we’re leaving the guys in a bit of a predicament, because two guys with their jobs certainly can’t afford a place like this. So let’s leave it a while, okay? Until they’ve found somewhere of their own.”

“And if they don’t?”

“They will,” Courfeyrac said confidently. “We have the rest of our lives Jehan. We won’t live here forever. Just a little longer.”

“Okay then,” he sighed. “Okay.”

* * *

Bahorel blinked with surprise when he saw the papers spread out all over the kitchen table, Feuilly looking through them with a pair of thin-wire glasses perched on his nose, occasionally scribbling in a notebook.

“What’s so important?” he asked, dropping down into the seat opposite. “You’re not normally so engrossed in work. Or are you writing reports?” Picking up one of the sheets he frowned at it then his friend. “Dude, this is my bank statement.”

“You gave me the password to your account years ago when you couldn’t be bothered to sort your student finance properly,” Feuilly said absent-mindedly. “I knew you wouldn’t have changed it. Now shush.”

“But it’s my fucking bank statement.”

“Yes, and I’m trying to work out if we can actually afford this place without Grantaire, so hush up and let me finish adding up this bit before house meeting tonight.”

Bahorel fell silent and watched Feuilly work for a few minutes before the other man sighed and took off the glasses, running a hand through his hair as he did so.

“Next time I’ll ask permission first,” he promised. “I just needed to get this sorted and it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone anything about your accounts. Speaking of which, you really need to consider at least attempting to sort them.”

“I’m not an accountant,” Bahorel grumbled. “If you’re so fussed about the state they’re in, you do them.”

* * *

Cosette smiled thankfully as her father placed a cup of tea in front of her, a mug of coffee next to it for himself.

“Been a while since you’ve come round for a drink,” he commented, smiling over at her fondly. “What’s the occasion?”

“Marius’s day off, so he has Chris for a change. I thought I’d come say hello.” She raised one eyebrow. “It’s not like you’ve been around much yourself. Where were you at last week without a word to anyone?”

Much to her surprise Valjean flushed.

“I went up to Liverpool,” he replied, as calmly as he could.

“Oh?” Cosette kept her smirk hidden. “See anyone nice whilst you were up there?”

“For your information, I was visiting Barbara.” He let slip a content smile without even realising and Cosette couldn’t help but feel happy for him. “We’ve become friendly.”

“Oh really? Friendly is it? Well, I’m glad you have someone to be “friends” with,” she told him with a knowing smile. “Does Grantaire know?”

“I have no idea, that’s for Barbara to decide.” He glanced over at her. “So you don’t think I’m too old?”

“Papa you’re only sixty-one, it’s not that old,” she laughed. “Besides, who cares? Do as you like. It’s your life after all.” Leaning over she kissed his cheek. “I’m happy for you both.”

* * *

“Well?” Bahorel demanded as soon as Feuilly had sat back down at the table after clearing away their dinner plates. “Come on then Mr Mathematician, work your magic and give us the bad news.”

“Whoever said it was bad news?” Feuilly retorted. “Okay, so this place was never overly expensive because it’s an old house and has never been in the best of states, but at the same time you can hardly call it cheap. Five of us could manage perfectly well. Four…” He shrugged. “We can afford it, but none of us would have much spare money left over after basic living costs.”

“So you’d suggest moving,” Jehan guessed.

“Possibly. Realistically we either need to move or take in a new roommate.”

“I don’t want to room with someone I don’t know,” Bahorel interrupted. “It’s been hard enough with these guys.” He winked at Courfeyrac and Jehan to prove he was joking and got the finger in return off them both.

“No, but I understand what Bahorel’s getting at,” Courfeyrac agreed. “We’ve all only ever lived with friends since arriving in this town.” He glanced over at his husband. “Plus we’ve been considering whether we should move out or not ourselves. If we’re all moving, then we might just do that.” He smiled. “Gives you no reason to complain at us then.”

“We all stay here until everyone is sorted though,” Jehan said firmly. “And if it comes to it then someone can have a sofa or spare room until they find somewhere.”

“Agreed,” Feuilly nodded, looking over at Bahorel who simply nodded. “Well that was easier than I thought it would be.”

“Yup, now shift your arses or we’re going to be late and Enj might just kill us if we’re late for the first one.” Standing Bahorel shrugged on his jacket. “And I for one am still terrified of the man.”

* * *

“Well well well, if it isn’t the traitor,” Bahorel chuckled, ruffling Grantaire’s hair as soon as he was close enough and ignoring his scowl. “How’s family life treating you?”

“Good,” Grantaire smiled, accepting the coke off Feuilly and dodging Bahorel’s next swipe at his hair. “Ah ah ah my friend, do that again and I shall have to hurt you.” He slipped into the seat next to Joly and swiped a few crisps from Bossuet before grinning up at Bahorel. “Taken over my room yet?”

“We’re moving out,” Feuilly informed him.

“Shit.” He looked from one to the other, all joking gone. “Is this because of me moving out?”

“Courf and Jehan wanted to move out anyways,” Bahorel shrugged. “So it wasn’t entirely you.”

Feuilly shot him a look. “It was going to happen the first time anyone moved out, and Jehan’s been after a place of their own since they got married. Really I’m surprised we all stayed at that place as long as we did. It’ll be nice to live alone again as well.”

“Gee thanks,” Bahorel muttered, and the whole table laughed.

“Okay people, if you’re quite finished,” Enjolras called from the front of the room, and as one everyone silenced and turned to face him. He looked round at them all, eyes sparkling with his excitement as he did so. “So it’s been a long time coming, but Les Amis is finally back in business.” He ignored the whoop from Courfeyrac and ploughed straight on into the meeting and the first topic of Egypt.

Grantaire managed to behave himself for almost half an hour but eventually it just slipped out and before he knew it he was standing, debating loudly across the café with Enjolras as the rest of the group sat there in silence, knowing smirks on every face.

“And that’s a record,” Bossuet chuckled as Grantaire sat down again, leaving a flustered Enjolras to continue. “I’ve never seen it take you so long to correct him before.”

“Surely arguing with him like that is counterproductive,” Joly mused before Grantaire could reply to his partner. “Not that it’s any of my business,” he was quick to add on, but Grantaire simply gave him a quick wink.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” he murmured, eyes moving back to the blonde. “It had quite the opposite affect last time if I recall.”

He left the doctor blushing as he stood once more, pointing out yet another flaw in Enjolras’s argument.


	35. Stormy Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three and a half years on...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out all you need for an update to take place is to put me ion a small island in the Mediterranean with next to no internet and an (as yet unstarted) assignment due in a week after I get home, then give me alcohol and let me go on my computer after Ian'd mentioned Les Mis.
> 
> Sorry for the delay as ever, but at least it's a long update this time.

“Alana, breakfast. Now!” Enjolras called up the stairs, cursing softly as he fumbled his tie yet again. “Or you’ll be late for school.”

“She’s plenty of time now come here,” Grantaire said patiently, moving over from where he was standing just inside the kitchen to join his partner. Batting Enjolras’s hands away he carefully sorted his tie, smiling and using it to tug him closer for a quick kiss once he was done. “I’ll get her to school, you head on to work. I know you want to be there early today.”

“But I generally drop her off,” Enjolras protested.

“Enjolras, all the pair of you are going to do this morning is piss each other off. She’s being stubborn and you don’t have time for it, so I’ll sort her out.” He kissed Enjolras again, only moving away when he felt Enjolras finally relax into it. “Go on with you now. Go win that vote.” He waited until Enjolras had grabbed car keys and left the house before leaning over the banister himself and shouting. “Alana Molloy if you aren’t down these stairs in two minutes you won’t _get_ breakfast!”

Before the two minutes had passed she was sat at the table munching away.

“I don’t know what you’re fussing about, I’m not gonna be late,” she grumbled as she ate.

“Allie, it’s your first day back at school and a big day for your father as well,” Grantaire sighed. “The last thing anybody needed was you being stubborn about getting up as he needed to be at work early. Which means I’m taking you to school, which means we’re walking.”

“Who’s picking me up tonight?” she asked, clearing her plate away.

“Combeferre. They’re taking you to the circus so me and your dad can have a quiet night.”

“Because he’s going to be an MP.” The eight-year-old spoke knowingly.

“Possibly,” Grantaire corrected. “Hopefully. He has to win this vote first. And then the one next May. And then, if he wins them both, he’ll be an MP.”

“He will,” she said confidently. “He’s my daddy, he can do anything.” Alana scowled. “Bar make you stay home next month.”

“Allie, it’s a job,” Grantaire said, a little harshly. It was the fifth time in as many days he’d had to go over the same argument with her. “And it’s only for two weeks. I’ll be back before you know it. Now get your coat on, it’s time to go.”

* * *

“Dammit Bahorel, how do you manage to get more paint on yourself than the wall?” Feuilly sighed as he re-entered the bedroom, mugs of coffee in hand.

“Blame Gavroche,” Bahorel shrugged. “Little beggar pretty much covered me in paint than ran off claiming he had lessons in the afternoon. Bloody college students.”

Feuilly laughed and cleared a space for them both to sit down away from the damp wall. “Well you were the one asked him to help,” he pointed out. “It’s looking good though.”

“Yeah well, anything to help an old friend.” Bahorel leant back against a stool and sighed as he took a gulp of the drink. “When you picking him up then?”

“Two days time. The bed and other furniture arrived yesterday so I’m building all that tomorrow, once this has all dried. ‘Taire has offered to help with that.” Feuilly grinned excitedly, the smile lighting his whole face up. “My first foster kid. I can’t wait.”

Bahorel laughed. “If you stick with just one I’ll be surprised.”

“Give it time, Bahorel, give it time.”

* * *

Grantaire knew the vote would be covered by local news but he still didn’t turn on the TV, instead locking himself away downstairs and waiting for Enjolras to pass the news on himself. He forgot however that his phone had no signal in the basement, and so was surprised when he heard a quiet cough from behind him instead of a vibration in his pocket.

“You didn’t pick up,” Enjolras said quietly, making his way over to stand next to him and dropping a kiss on Grantaire’s forehead.

“No signal,” he murmured, leaning back against him and sighing as a hand started to card its way through his hair. “How’d it go?”

“I won.”

Neither man could remember the last time Grantaire had moved so fast but Enjolras found himself pressed against the nearest wall, the artist kissing him hard. “Congratulations,” he breathed finally, pressing his forehead to the blonde’s. “I love you.”

“Mmm, I love you too,” Enjolras murmured back, eyes slowly slipping open. “Alana’s out for the night right?” Grantaire nodded. “Good.” He pulled him back in for another, even longer, kiss.

* * *

Grantaire sighed when he opened his door the next evening to see Courfeyrac standing there looking dejected. “Come on in,” he sighed, stepping to one side. “What was it about this time?”

“Everything and nothing,” Courfeyrac said quietly. “I bought him a new phone, he accused me of trying to change him and not accepting him how he is. He’s started leaving earlier and earlier for work and getting home later and later so I asked when he’s going to have time for me and us, because I love him and was going to try and organise a few days off to spend with him, but he takes it the wrong way. I was talking to a girl from work, he accused me of flirting. At that point it descended more into us both just shouting at each other and him throwing me out for the night. I’m telling you Grantaire, he’s crazy. He’s picking arguments out of nothing at all.”

“This is the fifth night in the past month you’ve slept over here,” Grantaire told him. “You need to sort this out.”

“Whenever I try to he just blows up again.” Courfeyrac shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Here’s a suggestion: on your way home tomorrow pick up some flowers and apologise. Properly. Not your normal mumble of ‘sorry’ but a full on apology. Now go put your stuff down. You know where the spare room is.”

“Evening Courfeyrac,” Enjolras called over as Courfeyrac went past his study, disapproval dripping from every word and making the other man wince.

“Evening Enjolras. Congratulations for yesterday.”

“We need to sort those two out,” Grantaire sighed once Courfeyrac had disappeared up the stairs, walking in and plonking himself down on Enjolras’s knee. “And soon.”

“Well if you have any suggestions I’m all ears, because I’m clean out of ideas and so is Combeferre.” Enjolras accepted Grantaire’s kiss before nudging him to one side slightly and continuing to type with the artist still in his lap. “We can’t have him coming round here every time they argue.”

“That’s the thing – he doesn’t. He was at Feuilly’s last week, Joly’s the week before that, and I do not want to think about how many nights he’s spent at Combeferre’s. There has to be something to make them argue less. I mean, we argue a lot less now than we used to.”

“Yeah, but it was a six year hiatus and car accident which sorted us out,” Enjolras pointed out. “None of us want that for them.”

“We’ll think of something,” Grantaire sighed, falling quiet and sliding off Enjolras’s lap as he heard Courfeyrac heading back down the stairs. “Ten minutes till tea okay? We’re eating early as Allie’s out tonight.”

“I’ve almost finished this bit,” Enjolras promised. “I’ll be through in five.”

Fifteen minutes later, yet still earlier than Grantaire had expected, the blonde slunk into the kitchen, apologising profusely when Grantaire simply raised one eyebrow at him.

* * *

“What do you mean you’re moving in with Valjean?” Grantaire yelped, staring at the phone as if it had grown a head or something.

_“Exactly that,”_ Barbara said patiently. _“Next month.”_

“But... But... But it’s Valjean!”

Sighing Enjolras reached over and plucked the phone out of his hand. “Congratulations Barbara, from the both of us,” he said warmly. “Give him half an hour- actually make that an hour to get the whole ‘it’s Valjean’ thing out of his system and he’ll be fine and congratulating you as well.” Enjolras fell silent for a few minutes then smiled. “I’ll tell him that later, once he’s got over this first bit,” he laughed. “Any help you need with the moving, just get in touch and one of us will come round and help. Yeah, see you in a couple of weeks.”

“What are you going to tell me later?” Grantaire growled once Enjolras had put the phone down, eyes narrowing when Enjolras shook his head. “Tell me,” he warned, before pouncing when Enjolras smiled and shook his head again.

“Get off!” Enjolras squealed as Grantaire tickled his sides, squirming helplessly as Grantaire ignored all his pleading.

“Are you going to tell me?” the artist asked finally, sitting back and stopping when Enjolras nodded, gasping for breath. “Well?”

“They’re getting married as well,” Enjolras muttered when he could breathe properly again. “A week after moving in together. You’re going to have to change your dates for going abroad because it coincides and you’re the one giving her away. And no arguments with that, because her back-up plan is Courf.”

“Who’s best man?” Grantaire asked, slowly going over this new development in his head. “Oh, and pass me my phone please.”

“She didn’t say. I’d expect Marius, he’s the only guy I can think of who actually talks to Valjean.” He watched his partner warily as Grantaire dialled a new number.

“Ah, hello Valjean,” he said pleasantly. “I believe congratulations are in order.”

_“Your mother told you then.”_

“Yes she did, both pieces of news.” Grantaire paused before continuing, his voice slightly lower though still pleasant enough. “If you hurt her in any way, shape or form, or even cause her to be a little bit unhappy, I will make your life a living hell. Is that understood?”

_“I have no intentions of hurting her.”_

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

_“It’s understood.”_

“Good. That’ll be all then.” Dropping the phone onto the table Grantaire raised one eyebrow at the blonde. “What?”

* * *

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Courfeyrac cried as Jehan stormed up the stairs, running up after him. “Come on Jehan, talk to me. I love you babe, but I can’t sort this unless you talk to me!”

He paused as the doorbell rang, hesitating, until it rang again, more insistently this time, as if whomever was there was leaning on it.

“Coming,” he shouted back down the stairs, doing his best to convey his annoyance in that one word. Reaching the door he yanked it open and glared at the girl standing there. “Can I help? Wait a sec-” He was cut off by the girl throwing herself at him, hugging him tightly as she burrowed her face into his shoulder.

“This is our house,” Jehan hissed coldly, following Courfeyrac and pulling the girl away. “And this is my husband. Who the hell do you think you are, coming here and doing that?”

“So this is Jehan,” she said, a soft Irish lilt curling around her words. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“How do you know my name?” He frowned, looking between her and Courfeyrac. “You look like-”

“She’s my sister,” Courfeyrac interrupted.

“Half-sister,” she corrected. “My da got another woman pregnant and two years later announced he was moving to Liverpool with her and his son. Mum divorced him on the spot and the priest even allowed it to go ahead. Father Lannigan is a good sort like that. Anyroad, I stayed with mum and Courfeyrac moved to Liverpool. I’ve visited a few times, when he was still at school and college, because I was curious about my baby brother, but I haven’t seen him now for a few years. Though with a name like Courfeyrac he’s easy enough to track down.” She shook her head. “What was your ma thinking of when she named you?”

“Mol what are you doing here?” he asked patiently.

Molly took a deep breath.

“I’m pregnant Courf.”

“Inside and sit down,” Jehan said firmly. “I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

“What happened?” Courfeyrac demanded once they were in the living room.

“I got a job in Liverpool,” she shrugged. “Six months with a chance of another six months at the end. Well I accepted, figured I’d search you out whilst I was there. All I managed to get out of your mother was that da was dead and you no longer lived there but had moved away and got married to some bloke called Jehan who was all very nice and that but was hardly going to give her grandchildren. She wouldn’t give me your address though. I kept looking but I focussed more on me job. I liked Liverpool and wanted an extension, especially seeing as how there was a lovely young man at work who I’d started seeing.” She shrugged again. “I got the six month extension and four months in realised I was pregnant. He wanted nothing to do with it and I sure don’t want it. Then I remembered what your ma said about grandkids. You two are happily married, nearly four years now, maybe you’d want a kid. You’re his uncle anyway, ain’t that different becoming his father.”

“Well I...” Courfeyrac trailed off and looked up at the door, where Jehan was standing. “We’d need to talk about it,” he said quietly.

“No we don’t,” Jehan said firmly. “Molly was it? Well Molly, we’d love to adopt your child. What are your plans for the rest of the pregnancy? How long is left?”

“Four and a half months and I dunno. I just finished the job and they didn’t offer another extension, so the only thing keeping me in England is the baby.”

“Then you can stay with us.”

“Jehan, a word.”

Something in Courfeyrac’s tone told Jehan not to argue and they left the room silently. Courfeyrac waited until the door had swung shut before starting.

“Really Jehan? Much as I’d love a child, do you really think it’s a good idea when we’re arguing constantly?”

“I’ll quit smoking,” Jehan promised. “Of every kind. If you quit flirting with anything on legs-”

“I do not flirt with anyone but you,” Courfeyrac hissed. “I haven’t flirted with anyone but you since the day I fell in love with you, so don’t you dare accuse me of that. I talk to people, nothing more. I’m not my father.”

“It might stop us arguing so much,” Jehan said softly, making Courfeyrac fall silent instantly. “Might calm us both down.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Courfeyrac whispered.

“It will.” Jehan stepped closer. “Don’t you want a child?”

“With all my heart. But you have to promise me something before I agree to this. Yes I want this child, but you cannot go making decisions without talking it through with me first. Not big decisions like this. You didn’t even know if I wanted kids when you told Mol we’d do it. I promise not to do the same thing okay? Just, please. Talk to me more.”

“I promise not to do it again,” Jehan murmured. “Does this mean we’re telling her yes?”

“We’re telling her yes,” Courfeyrac said with a grin. “On the agreement that we manage a week with no arguments. Not tiptoeing round each other because that means nothing, but we have to manage a whole week of acting normal and no arguments. I think our friends would appreciate that as well.” With a grin to equal Courfeyrac’s Jehan threw himself at his husband, hugging him tightly.

“We can do this,” Jehan said firmly without moving back. “Not just for the kid, but for us as well, because we can’t keep arguing constantly.”

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Courfeyrac whispered as it started to properly sink in. Laughing he span Jehan round. “Jesus Christ I’m gonna be a dad!” He kissed Jehan deeply for the first time in what felt like months, smiling as the kiss was returned.

“I love you,” Jehan breathed as they parted. “I do, I really do, even though you frustrate me so damn much sometimes. Never forget that I love you.”

* * *

“I can’t believe I’m giving my mother away,” Grantaire grumbled as he finished sorting his tie. “To Valjean of all people.”

“You’re happy for her really,” Enjolras smiled, passing his waistcoat over. “You’re only whining because she didn’t tell you straight away. And they have been seeing each other since we moved in together, so it’s not like it’s that big a shock.”

“I know, I just...” Grantaire trailed off and sighed. “Valjean still terrifies the shit out of me and he’s gonna be my stepfather.”

“Think of it this way: you get Cosette as a sister.”

Grantaire paled, making Enjolras laugh. “Christ that’s a terrifying thought.”

“I’ll tell her you said that, now scram. Go get your mum and I’ll see you in church.”

* * *

“Who’s best man then?” Grantaire inquired as they neared the church. “Because Marius says it’s not him and Valjean’s keeping mum about it all.”

“Javert,” Barbara chuckled, it turning into a proper laugh at the look on Grantaire’s face. “He kept it a surprise because he knew how everyone would react.”

“Javert? As in Inspector Javert, who’s been trying to arrest Valjean since he was a kid? Feuilly’s boss? The same inspector who arrested me and Enjolras that time?”

“What do you mean, arrested?”

“...Oops. Forget I ever said that mum. Oh look, we’re here.”

“You are telling me everything later,” she warned as they pulled up, and Grantaire started praying desperately that she would forget.

* * *

“Dance with me, quick,” Grantaire whispered into Enjolras’s ear, dragging him onto the floor. “I let slip to mum that we got arrested that time and I think she’s pissed with me.”

“’Taire, that was eleven years ago. You never told her?”

“Hell no! Do I look stupid? On second thoughts don’t answer that. But no, trust me when I say her finding out I got arrested is a bad idea.”

“Then I shall endeavour to keep you occupied the whole night through,” Enjolras promised, pulling his boyfriend closer.

* * *

“That kid of yours looks like he’s settling in just fine,” Bahorel mentioned as Tudor danced past with Alana right beside him. “How’s he doing on learning English?”

“Pretty well, I’m surprised how fast he’s picked it up.” Feuilly leaned back against the bar as he sipped his beer but his eyes kept firmly on his Romanian foster son, following him round the floor. “I’m not sure how pleased Enjolras’s gonna be though, he seems quite taken with Allie.”

“No more than she is with him,” Bahorel laughed. “Hey up, who’s this dancing with Courfeyrac? I haven’t seen her before.”

“I saw her the other day,” Feuilly said darkly. “I think she must be from Liverpool if she’s here, must know Barbara as well as Courf.”

“What’s with the tone of voice?” Bossuet enquired from behind Feuilly, joining in the conversation as easily as if he’d been there the whole time.

“I was driving past on my way to work and noticed her at their door. Courf opened the door and she pretty much threw herself into his arms, and he wasn’t making any move to stop her. I’d have mentioned it sooner only him and Jehan seem to have stopped arguing so much and I didn’t want to ruin anything between them.”

“She’s pregnant,” Bossuet said quietly. “You can just tell by the way that her dress is that little bit too tight. Where’s Jehan?”

“He left just before they started dancing. He was only going to the toilet though, so he should be due back any minute now.” Bahorel looked grim.

“Bossuet, kindly distract the woman. I think me and Bahorel need a word with Courf,” Feuilly said, placing the empty bottle down and moving between the dancers until he’d reached Courfeyrac. The pair waited until Bossuet had drawn the woman away, talking to her about Musichetta’s dresses and how she really must talk to her about one, before appearing one on either side of the brunette.

“Hey guys,” he smiled, clearly relaxed and in a better mood than they’d seen him in for weeks. “Have you heard the news? I’m going to be a dad.”

This, on top of Bossuet and Feuilly’s earlier comments, was all it took. Jehan re-entered the room just in time to see Bahorel punching Courfeyrac and knocking him to the ground.

* * *

“So he’s not cheating on you?” Bahorel double checked.

“For the last time no,” Jehan growled from where he was crouched next to his husband. “She’s his sister. She got knocked up and came to us and we’re going to adopt the child because she’s not married and doesn’t want it.”

“Hence why he was hugging her outside your house last week,” Feuilly realised. “And why he was dancing with her.” He frowned. “Hang on, how come she wasn’t at your wedding?”

“Half-sister,” Courfeyrac gasped out, handkerchief still firmly held at his nose. “The two parts of the family don’t get along bar us two.”

Grantaire’s laughter echoed from the back of the room as Feuilly and Bahorel both flushed and offered up their apologies.

“Gee, fancy little old Mol Malone causing all this trouble,” he grinned, slinging an arm round her shoulders. “You guys do realise they look just like each other right? They both take after their dad for looks.”

“Shut up ‘Taire,” Enjolras sighed.

“Everything sorted?” Barbara checked, nodding to herself when they all gave affirmatives. “Then what are you all standing around for? I thought this was a party.” Turning to her husband she offered him her hand and beamed as he spun her back quickly into his arms and started to sway with her as the music restarted.

“Sorry again,” Feuilly muttered as he held out a hand to help Courfeyrac up.

“It’s fine. I can understand why you did it.” He looked over to where Jehan was dancing with Molly. “Just know that I would never hurt him like that,” he said softly. “Ever. I love him too much to ever even consider cheating on him.” His eyes met Grantaire’s. “I’m not my father.”

“We know,” Grantaire replied. “Sean was a good man in his own way though, even if he was never the best at staying faithful.”

“Well it’s a good job you don’t plan to hurt him,” Bahorel said, patting him on the back. “Because if you ever do I’d have to kill you. Jehan’s like a little brother to us all.”

“Bar Cosette who’s younger than him,” Feuilly added quickly.

* * *

Grantaire had been standing in the office doorway watching Enjolras for almost five minutes before the blonde spoke.

“Are you coming in or planning on standing there all day, because you’re letting a draft in.”

“I got the new dates for that work abroad,” Grantaire said quietly, letting the door shut behind him as he walked over and perched on the desk next to Enjolras. His partner shifted his work to one side to make space for him then leant back in his chair, scrutinising his face.

“Come on then, give us the bad news.”

“Well the Germany exhibit is about to finish so they’ve transferred me to the next stage of it all. I’m going to Malta for three and a half weeks.”

Enjolras frowned. “That’s longer than before.”

“I know, and it’s the three weeks before Christmas. Wait, it gets worse. There’s a chance we’ll be held up as well, meaning I might be late coming home.”

“So you might miss Christmas.” Enjolras’s voice held practically no emotion and Grantaire winced.

“I don’t want to, and I might not, but I need this job Enj, you know that.”

“Tell that to Alana.”

Grantaire winced again. “I shall do my level best to be home on time,” he promised.

“Well that’s just great. Your level best. How reassuring.” Sarcasm dripped from every word.

“You think I want to miss Christmas?” Grantaire snapped. “You think I even want to leave at all and miss _any_ time with you and Allie? It’s a job Enjolras, one I rather desperately need in case you hadn’t realised. You may be nice and secure with your work but I’m not, so I have to go. And if I do miss Christmas she can blame Valjean and the wedding.”

“Why Valjean? It was your mother who proposed.”

“Fine, then it’s my mother’s fault!” Grantaire threw his hands up as he spoke and jumped to his feet. “Do you know what, forget it. I’ll talk to you about this when you’re in more of a frame of mind to listen and maybe be a little bit supportive, or even just in the mood to care about something other than yourself and your own bloody work.” And with that he stormed out, letting the door slam shut behind him and leaving a bewildered Enjolras in his wake.

* * *

“What did he have to say for himself?” Eponine asked as Combeferre walked back out of his office.

“It’s six of one, half a dozen of the other,” he sighed. “Grantaire says Enjolras only cared about the fact he might be missing for Christmas and didn’t seem to give a damn about his work, only caring about the bad side of things; Enjolras says Grantaire was being snappy and defensive and never gave him the chance to say anything proper. Where is Grantaire?”

“He went to Feuilly’s. He’s been called out to work and needed someone to keep an eye on Tudor.” She leant back against her boyfriend as he pulled her closer. “How long until they sort it out do you reckon?”

“Tomorrow, maybe the day after at the latest. Their arguments never last over long these days.”

“Someone needs to bang their heads together,” she groaned. “No sooner have we one arguing couple sorted than another starts. When does Grantaire leave?”

“In a fortnight. Fingers crossed they should be sorted out by then though.”

* * *

“Enj, I’m gonna need that lift in five minutes!” Grantaire shouted up the stairs, sighing when he heard the vague shout in reply. Heading into the lounge he crouched down next to the nine-year-old who was doing her best to ignore him as she drew. “Hey Allie, do I get a goodbye?”

“I don’t want you to go,” she said without looking up. “If I don’t say goodbye then you can’t go. You’re not allowed to leave without saying goodbye.”

“Don’t work like that kiddo,” he sighed. “Look, we’ve been over this over and over. I don’t want to go but I have no choice. Now you’re a big girl, you understand that we have to work to earn money. It’s only three weeks.”

“Three weeks and four days,” she corrected. “Possibly more.” She looked up at him, her pale blue eyes more serious than he’d ever seen them. “I don’t want you to miss Christmas.”

“I promise that I will do my best to be back here in time.”

“And what if you aren’t?”

He smiled at her. “Then Santa won’t bring me any presents.”

Alana rolled her eyes. “Dad, Santa doesn’t exist.”

“I still promise,” he said seriously. Holding out his arms he held her tightly as she threw herself into the hug, stroking her hair softly as she clung on. “And if I am late, well we’ll just have to have a second Christmas once I am home. How’s that sound?”

“I’ll miss you,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I’ll miss you too.” Looking up he caught sight of Enjolras watching them from the doorway. “But it’s only three weeks.”

“And-”

“Four days, I know,” he finished for her. With one last kiss on her forehead Grantaire stood, wincing as his knee clicked, and made his way over to the door.

“Feuilly just got here,” Enjolras told Grantaire. “He offered to keep an eye on her for us. That kid of his was wanting to play with her.”

The artist laughed at Enjolras’s expression. “Enjolras, he’s ten. You don’t have to be so protective of her just yet.”

“He needs to back off a little,” Enjolras grumbled, but his expression smoothed slightly when Grantaire kissed him. “She’s growing up so fast,” he sighed as they watched her look up and grin when Tudor shouted a ‘hello’ through. “She’s still my baby girl but she’s interested in boys and doesn’t even believe in Santa anymore.”

“She’ll always be your little girl,” Grantaire smiled.

“Really dad?” Alana gave them both a look as she walked over to join them. “Do you have to be all soppy about me whilst I’m in the room?”

They shared a look before grinning and grabbing her, both showering her with kisses whilst she squealed. “Yep,” they said as one.

* * *

“I still wish you weren’t going,” Enjolras said quietly once they were in the airport.

“Enjolras, I have just had this from your daughter and from you every day this week,” Grantaire snapped. “I do not need it again now. Can we please just have five minutes without the same bloody argument.”

Grabbing the lapels of his jacket Enjolras silenced him by tugging him in for a kiss, one which deepened as Grantaire’s arms slid around the other man. “I’ll be back before you know it,” Grantaire whispered. “And I’ll miss you. And probably phone every night, so you’d better be home. No going out partying whilst I’m gone, and tell your boyfriends to watch out.” Enjolras chuckled weakly and kissed him again.

“Go get on that plane before I change my mind.”

* * *

The first two nights when Grantaire phoned, Enjolras answered before the second ring, clearly waiting for the call. The third it took a little longer and Enjolras was out of breath, having clearly run to make it to the phone before it went to the answer machine.

The fourth, fifth and sixth nights, Grantaire rang three times with no answer before giving up.

When Enjolras finally answered the phone the following night, it was on the fifth attempt.

“Have fun the last few nights?” Grantaire asked, having already noted the distraction in Enjolras’s voice and unable to keep a snipey tone out of his.

“What? Oh, I wasn’t really doing much. Just working.”

Grantaire slowly said, “Oh?”

“Yeah, I had some stuff needed sorting.”

“Stuff so important you couldn’t even hear the phone ringing? You know, the phone sat on your office desk?”

“It was important.” Grantaire could almost hear the shrug.

“Enjolras, I know your work schedule,” he snapped. “You’ve nothing coming up until well into January, no speeches or paperwork or anything. I cleared my evenings so that I could talk to you. Left work early every day so that I could catch you at a decent time, and you can’t even be bothered to pick up the fucking phone.”

“There’s no need to swear-”

“There’s every fucking need to swear sometimes when dealing with you. God Enjolras, do you ever take a break or think about anyone but yourself and your work? You think I have nothing better to be doing of an evening than sitting here waiting for my boyfriend to bother to talk to me?”

“I’m here now aren’t I?” Enjolras replied, obviously fighting to keep his tone even. “Talk to me then. How’s your day been? What’ve you been up to?”

“Oh forget it,” Grantaire sighed, suddenly tired. “Go spend time with your daughter, or do your blessed work if it’s so important to you. I’m going to bed.”

It was the first time in three years he’d put the phone down on Enjolras without telling him he loved him and both felt the absence of the words as they lay in their empty beds that night.

* * *

Enjolras took a deep breath and picked up the phone, dialling the number from memory and praying he’d pick up.

_“Yeah Tits, right there. Hello?”_

The voice was familiar but Enjolras didn’t say anything, instead just listening as Grantaire continued speaking.

_“Hello, anyone there? No Tits, not like that, like this. Yeah just like that. Now again. Actually wait a minute, let me see who this is. Enjolras? Enjolras, there’s caller ID, I know it’s you so talk to me.”_ He could feel Grantaire’s patience running thin. _“Dammit Enj, say something! Don’t be so damn childish!”_

“Tits?” Enjolras said slowly.

_“...Aw shit. Look, none of that was how it sounded. Oh God I can only imagine how it sounded. And I can explain. Honest I can. Just let me go outside and we can talk properly for a few minutes.”_

“It doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “You go back to work or whatever you were doing. I’ll talk to you later.”

Closing his phone he slipped it into his pocket, ignoring all vibrations for the next ten minutes.

* * *

“That was Grantaire,” Eponine sighed, holding her phone up.

“Enjolras,” Combeferre replied as he put his own away. “What did he have to say?”

“That Enjolras took something the wrong way. Him?”

“That Grantaire’s conversation sounded wrong and that he thinks he’d things up before then.”

Eponine’s groaned and dropped her head in her hands. “Meaning once again they’re both to blame. Why the hell do we have to deal with them?”

“Because I’m good friends with Enjolras, you’re good friends with Grantaire, and neither of us has other obligations like family,” Combeferre sighed. “Though next time I may refuse to answer my phone, see where he goes then.”

“Courfeyrac probably.”

Both shuddered at the thought of what romantic advice their friend may give.

* * *

Grantaire sighed helplessly as he leant on the railing and stared out to sea. He let himself get lost in the waves as they crashed against the rocks, deciding the weather was perfect for the state of his relationship at the moment as the spray hit his face. Blinking the water out of his eyes he glanced down at his phone as it rang again.

“Piss off,” he muttered, shoving it away again.

“Hey son, you be careful down there,” a voice suddenly called down from the promenade. Grantaire glanced up to see an oldish couple watching him. “These waves can be dangerous,” the man continued.

“Thanks for the warning,” he shouted back up, forcing a smile on his face. “I’ll be fine though, I’m heading back up in a minute.”

Turning back to the sea he sighed again and stared across to the nearest island.

_“Fuck this,”_ he thought finally as he started walking towards the nearest steps. _“I’ll sort it later.”_

* * *

The hammering on the door woke Eponine up and she swore viciously as she grabbed a dressing gown and stormed through the flat to answer it.

“What?” she demanded, throwing it open and glaring at Enjolras, who stood there gasping. “What to fuck do you want at fucking two in the morning?”

“I needed to talk to someone,” he mumbled. “Like Combeferre.”

“He’s not in, he’s out with Courf and Bahorel.” Her expression softened slightly when she saw the state he was in. “What’s wrong?”

“The news,” he whispered and she straight away from over to the TV, flicking it on and leaving Enjolras to make his own way inside.

“Well fuck,” she breathed as she watched the headline pass across the screen.

_Young male British tourist swept out to sea in Malta by freak wave. Identity yet unknown._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd been nice to them for far too long...


	36. Malta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras goes to find out if Grantaire is okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, deadlines and work got in the way of writing this, and then a total lack of internet for the delay between this being written and being posted.

“Have you considered the possibility that he might not be dead?” Combeferre asked, a lot more calmly than he felt.

“Duh,” Enjolras muttered. “I’ve been trying to phone him since the news broke but he’s not picking up.”

“That could be because the last time you spoke you argued,” Courfeyrac pointed out from where he was sat next to the blonde, allowing him to squeeze his hand so tightly he was almost glad he’d lost all feeling in it. “This is ‘Taire, when he’s pissed off with someone he rarely answers the phone to them.”

“Plus it’s late,” Combeferre said. “He could be asleep.” The look he gave Courfeyrac said that he didn’t believe this either but was trying to help Enjolras. Shaking his head slightly he crouched in front of his friend. “Enjy,” he said softly, using his childhood nickname in the hopes it’d bring him out of it. “It may not be him.”

“But it might be,” he whispered, tears clinging to his eyelashes. “It might be and I can’t bear not knowing and if it is him… If he’s dead… I can’t…” He let the two men pull him into a tight hug, fighting back the tears again as he did so.

“I’m going to try to phone someone, see what I can find out,” Combeferre decided. “There has to be someone in Malta who can help. Which hotel is he staying in?”

“Il-Palazzin.”

“I’ll find the number.”

Five minutes later, after three minutes of Combeferre swearing at his laptop quietly to hurry it up, he was on the phone.

“Hello, my name is Combeferre Nix, I’m a friend of someone staying at your hotel, Grantaire Wise. He’s in room…” He paused and looked at Enjolras, nodding when he mouthed ‘thirty-two’ over at him. “He’s in room thirty-two. He’s not answering his phone and we need to get in touch with him rather urgently. I was wondering if you’d be able to put me through.” He listened to the person on the other side, frowning. “Right. Thank you anyway. Yes, good night.” He sighed as he put the mobile down. “He left this morning and hasn’t returned to the hotel yet.”

“Ring their police,” Courfeyrac suggested as Enjolras moaned lowly and buried his face in Courfeyrac’s shoulder. Combeferre nodded and picked his phone back up before heading through to his office, closing the door behind him. “He’ll be fine,” Courfeyrac lied, hugging Enjolras again. “He always bounces back.”

“They’re refusing to tell me anything,” Combeferre snapped as he re-entered the room, glaring down at his phone angrily. “They can only give information to family.”

“So let Enjolras speak to them.”

“Doesn’t count with them.”

Courfeyrac muttered something rude under his breath, looking down in surprise as Enjolras suddenly stood, saying nothing about gay rights as he did so.

“I need to go out there,” he decided. “I need to know.”

“I’ll book tickets,” Combeferre said quietly, not even bothering to try and argue but knowing it would be a waste of breath.

* * *

The plane juddered as it landed but Enjolras barely noticed, too busy staring out of the window to care. Before they had come to a complete stop he was on his feet, coat on and glaring at the people beside him as if that would make everyone disembark quicker. The blast of hot air as he stepped out into the night sky was a surprise given the time of year but he didn't complain, simply unzipping his jacket again as he climbed down the steps and boarded the bus.

The blonde had never been more thankful to not have luggage as when he saw the queue already forming around baggage reclaim, and he headed quickly through the exit doors and straight for the taxi rank.

"Filgħaxija tajba," the driver of the car he stopped by greeted him with a smile, one which didn't fade when Enjolras stared at him blankly. "Good evening sir, where to?"

"Hotel Il-Palazzin. It's in Qawra." He stumbled over the unfamiliar word and the driver smiled.

"Awra," he corrected. "The Q is silent. I can have you there in half an hour, it's at the North of the island."

Nodding Enjolras climbed in, once again staring out of the window as the scenery shot past though none of it went in. All he could think of was what would happen if Grantaire was dead and the look on Alana's face when he'd told her he needed to go away for a few days. He hadn't told her why, just in case, and he knew she was furious with him, but it couldn't be helped.

After the first few attempts at conversation were answered by silence the driver gave up, but on the way into Qawra he glanced back at Enjolras and spoke again. "If you want some advice, stay away from the front. It's nice weather, but the sea is still wild. A man got swept out a few days ago. It's not so bad round the other side of the island mind."

"I saw about that on the news," Enjolras said, forcing his voice to stay calm. "Do they know who it was yet?"

"No. They've only just retrieved the body, we won't hear anything for a few days yet, not until they've got in touch with his family. Well, here we are. Hotel Il-Palazzin."

Enjolras paid him and practically ran inside the hotel, skidding to a halt by the desk.

"Hi, I'm a friend of Grantaire Wise, in room 32. I was wondering if you'd be able to point out the way, I was hoping to surprise him."

"I'm sorry sir, but he hasn't been back in two days."

Enjolras's breath caught in his throat.

"I… Right. Um…"

"I could let him know you were here when he next arrives if you give me a name…" the receptionist said, looking at him expectantly.

"Enjolras Molloy. I'm his partner. Look, this really is quite urgent. Do you have any contact details or any way for me to get in touch with him?"

"I'm sorry Mr Molloy, but information like that cannot be given out to the public without-"

"Enjolras?"

The tired voice cut through the receptionist's words and Enjolras span round, recognising it instantly and simply staring at its owner for a minute.

"Grantaire," he breathed before throwing himself across the foyer and into his arms. "Oh god Grantaire I was so damn scared you were dead."

"What?" Grantaire said, pulling back with a confused expression on his face. "You thought I was dead?"

"We saw the news and then I couldn't get in touch with you and the hotel said you hadn't been back."

"The man who drowned," he realised. "You thought it was me."

"You weren't answering your phone, you hadn't been back to the hotel in over a day, it was in the same town as you, what else was I meant to think?"

"So you came out here to find out if I was okay." Leaning forwards Grantaire kissed him quickly then took his hand. "Let's go through to my room, we can talk there."

Once in the hotel room Grantaire sighed and put the kettle on before flopping down on the bed, looking exhausted all of a sudden. "It's been a long two days," he muttered, only standing again to finish making the brews when the kettle had boiled, shaking his head at Enjolras when he moved to help. "I was on the front that day," he said quietly, passing Enjolras his mug then sitting beside him on the bed. "Passed the man as he headed down the steps, spoke to him, gave him the same warning a couple had just given me - to watch out because the waves can be dangerous. He nodded and continued on down to the lower promenade. I recognised him as being from the hotel opposite here, but I'd never actually spoken to him before. When I reached the upper promenade I glanced down and saw the wave hit and him vanish under it. I rang the police and in return got to spend until now stuck in Floriana answering the police's questions. Hence why I never answered my phone - it died about an hour after I reached the station."

"At least you're okay," Enjolras whispered, putting their mugs down before hugging him tightly.

"Yeah." Resting his head on Enjolras's shoulder, Grantaire yawned. "Sorry."

"Sleep," the blond said firmly, pushing him down onto the bed before curling up next to him and wrapping his arms round the artist tightly again. "We can talk tomorrow. After all, we have all the time in the world."

* * *

Enjolras woke long before Grantaire the next morning but lay there quietly, studying his face carefully. It was only when the artist started to stir that he climbed from the bed, flicking the kettle on before entering the bathroom.

By the time he came out again Grantaire was sat up on the bed, watching him with a funny expression on his face.

"What?" Enjolras asked, making their coffees quickly.

"You're trying to pretend everything's okay," Grantaire said softly. "Just like you did whenever we had a huge blow-up."

"Is that such a bad thing? To want everything to be normal?"

"Yes because sometimes things aren't, and half the time you will refuse to acknowledge this. This is why half our arguments are never resolved and the other half start."

"Fine, let's discuss this now then. Who were you talking to when I rang?"

"Tiziana," Grantaire replied, spelling it out for him. "Except only older generations and people like you and Combeferre say Tiziana these days. Most folks shorten it."

"To Tits," Enjolras realised.

"Yeah. Z in Maltese sounds like t-s, and it has a completely different meaning to them."

"God I was such an idiot," Enjolras groaned.

"Yeah," Grantaire agreed, smiling at the blonde. "But understandably so. We were arguing anyway."

Enjolras sighed. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "I got caught up in something at work and I shouldn't have. Not when I'd promised to be around to talk to you and we'd agreed to keep evening's free and everything."

"And I shouldn't have lost my temper," Grantaire replied, climbing out of bed and making his way over to Enjolras, wrapping his arms round the blonde's waist once he reached him. "I love you."

"I love you too," Enjolras murmured, sneaking in a quick kiss before holding out one of the coffees. "Please tell me you can come home with me."

Grantaire shrugged. "I'm going to talk to the office. I certainly don't fancy spending all my time there, not after being stuck at the police station for so long, and I must confess I'm growing rather tired of this country on my own."

"Well I'm here for a few days at least. I still have to book tickets home."

"Don't book anything until I have plans," Grantaire made him promise then picked up his phone. "Hi, Carmen? It's Grantaire. I've a favour to ask…"

* * *

It was Christmas Eve before Enjolras could find a flight despite Grantaire having secured his last week off and so the couple enjoyed their holiday. The only downsides was Alana's mood when they called home each evening, but both agreed that was understandable.

As they had an hour to spare before boarding once they'd gone through security Grantaire headed straight for the shop, making Enjolras laugh when he bought three packets of Haribos.

"What?" he demanded defensively.

"You and those sweets," Enjolras smiled. "I'd forgotten how you'd eat them obsessively on plane journeys."

"I just don't like flying," Grantaire shrugged. "They keep me distracted."

"Them and a games device. Your Gameboy normally."

The artist sighed. "That thing broke years ago. I have to make do with books these days."

"How do you cope?"

The teasing continued through until they were on the plane, at which point Grantaire curled as much into the seat as was possible with his seatbelt on and burrowed his face into Enjolras's shoulder.

"What did you get the sweets for if you've going to sleep instead?" Enjolras asked quietly, stroking back Grantaire's hair.

"Later," he mumbled. "Sleep is good."

Enjolras smiled at that, settling down as he felt Grantaire's breathing slow and even out. He considered waking him when the meals came round but decided against it, waving away his own meal as well. He'd take Grantaire out when they got back, or cook him something nicer than airline food.

They were back in British airspace when the idea came to him and he sat up and grabbed one of the bags of sweets, searching quickly for the right one and disturbing Grantaire in the process.

"What the hell are you doing?" the brunette asked quietly, voice still rough with sleep.

"Asking you something." Twisting in his seat he gave Grantaire a serious look. "I love you."

"I know, and I love you too, but what's going on?"

"Well, I've been thinking, and I've come to a conclusion."

"That is generally what happens when you think, yes." Grantaire sounded amused.

Enjolras held out one of the ring sweets. "I'd get down on one knee but it's a little difficult on an aeroplane. I can still ask though. So, Grantaire Wise, will you please marry me."

Grantaire looked stunned for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

"No."

Enjolras's face fell instantly. "Oh." The one word held more disappointment than anyone around them had ever heard before. "I… Well…" He tried a weak smile. "Okay then."

"You don't understand," Grantaire said quickly, catching Enjolras's face between his hands before he could turn away. "I love you and I would more than happily marry you, in fact it would make me stupidly clichedly happy, but not now, because right now it isn't marriage for us. When you get into parliament and fight for our rights, as I know you've been planning to do for years, and when that fight is won and we can actually get properly married, then I will marry you. And until then, I will gladly be your fiancé."

"You will?"

Grantaire laughed. "Why do you sound so surprised by this?"

"I don't know, I just…" Trailing off Enjolras moved forwards and kissed Grantaire, the artist tugging him further into the kiss and both forgetting everyone else around them. It was only when they separated that they heard the cheers from the seats nearest to them and they blushed furiously, accepting everyone's congratulations as Enjolras struggled to get the small ring onto Grantaire's finger. "I'll get you something proper later," he promised.

"I don't care," Grantaire murmured back, laughing as he slid an identical one onto Enjolras's finger as well. "I like it."

* * *

The rings were the first thing Combeferre noticed when he met them outside arrivals.

"Tell me that's engagement not marriage," he sighed, hugging both in turn. "Because Courfeyrac will never forgive you if you got married without him there."

"He'll live," Grantaire grinned, winking at Enjolras.

"Congratulations then I suppose."

"Why thank you." Grantaire slung an arm round Enjolras's shoulders as he spoke, the blonde leaning into him happily and smiling at his friend.

In the car Combeferre managed to get Enjolras into the front then waited for Grantaire to doze off in the back before starting a quiet conversation.

"You look relaxed for a change."

Enjolras looked back at Grantaire, as if making sure he was still there. "I'm just glad to have him alive and in one piece."

"I remember him saying that once." Combeferre risked a quick glance over at the blonde before focusing on the road again. "Are you sure getting married in such a rush was a good idea? With the arguing I mean."

"No more than Jehan and Courfeyrac taking on a child with the arguing."

"They've been arguing much less though," Combeferre pointed out. "Neither has stormed out or been thrown out for two months now, whereas you two… Well, you know."

"Have been arguing more than ever. I know." Enjolras sighed. "We're not actually married, that was just Grantaire pulling your leg. Only engaged. Thinking I'd lost him made me realise just how stupid all our arguing was. I love him, and we shouldn't be blowing up at each other over every little thing. And I don't ever want him to go, so proposing seemed a good idea at the time."

"At the time?" Combeferre hesitated before asking the next question. "How does it seem now?"

"Like the best idea in the world."

* * *

The couple slept in late on Christmas Day, having not made it home until three in the morning. Due to this, and as they were planning to spend the afternoon at Valjean's with Barbara, Valjean, Cosette, Marius and Christopher anyway, they'd left Alana with Barbara a night longer and had kept from her the news that they were coming home, planning to surprise her when they showed up.

Hearing the knock on the door Barbara smiled and looked over at Alana.

"Do you want to answer it?"

"No," she replied shortly, still sulking over her parents' absence.

Barbara sighed and Cosette stood.

"I'll get it," she said quietly. "And she'll cheer up soon enough."

The second the door was open Enjolras and Grantaire started singing _We Wish You A Merry Christmas_ as atrociously as they could, laughing when Cosette told them, "Sorry, no carol singers allowed". Upon hearing their voices Alana had perked up and dashed through from the lounge, shouting "Daddy!" as Enjolras swung her up into his arms, hugging her tightly.

"You're getting heavy young lady," he told her, kissing her forehead as she beamed at him.

When he put her down again it was Grantaire's turn and he smiled at her as she threw herself at him, holding her close. "Told you I'd be back in time for Christmas," he murmured as she rested her head against his shoulder. "Shall we go inside? It's freezing out here." Enjolras had to take Alana from Grantaire as soon as his mother saw him, Barbara holding him tightly for several minutes.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again," she scolded the second she let him go, the relief coming through clear in her voice. "I'm too old for shocks like that."

"You're not old," Grantaire laughed, but he promised to be more careful in the future all the same.

"Can we open presents now?" Alana demanded from her perch on Enjolras's knee, and with one last hug Barbara called Valjean through from the kitchen.

"Oh yeah, and before I forget." Grantaire looked over at Enjolras and smiled. "We've got some news…"

"You must never go away near Christmas again," Alana told Grantaire once they were on their way home that night, already half asleep.

"Why does everyone keep telling me this?" Grantaire muttered, half-jokingly.

"Can't think why," Enjolras replied, smiling over at his fiance. "Just be grateful we'll let you go away again at all."

**Author's Note:**

> So this story has skipped over several weeks, months and even years at times. As such, if there is anything missing that you'd like as a drabble or story (any character or relationship or anything) then just comment or message me on tumblr (shelny18 or crazygurl4994) and I'll gladly write it for you as part of the series I'm planning of drabbles of events that's been missed out but I have ideas for.
> 
> In a nutshell - you request it, I'll try and write it.
> 
> Really hope that made sense.


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